


i'm almost me again (she's almost you)

by lostariels



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Heartbreak, Hurt/Comfort, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-01-16 07:44:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 126,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18517015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostariels/pseuds/lostariels
Summary: After being left heartbroken, Lena finds herself in Scotland with nothing but a broken watch, a photograph of the woman who broke her heart, and the sudden urge to go for a walk. A very long walk. With stubborn determination, she sets out on a cross-country journey, with the intention of fixing her broken heart and winning back the woman that she loves in grand gesture in Paris.Until Lena finds herself stranded at a teahouse in the south of England, her trip to Paris delayed, and unable to bring herself to leave for some reason, finding that her heart doesn't need to be fixed; it just needs to be loved by the right person.





	1. Chapter 1

            Shifting into the soft leather seat in First Class, Lena swirled the amber scotch around in her glass, staring down at the mesmerising whirlpool as the plane hummed beneath her. They’d been in the air for three hours already, the air crisp with the pressurised oxygen running through the cabin, and she was pale and rigid in her seat, slender fingers tightly gripping the plastic cup as they raced past puffy white clouds with such unhurried gentleness that one could almost mistake the breakneck speed for drifting slowly with the breeze. 

 

            Outside, the sky was crystalline blue and she stared through the small oval, finding castles and spires in the marshmallow clouds, wondering what it would be like to sink through them, to fall through the freezing vapour and tumble down to the emptiness below. They were already flying over the North Atlantic Ocean, and she could imagine the wreathing grey mass beneath her. It would hurt, falling from so high. Not that she’d survive the fall, but it was almost a peaceful thought, to imagine falling uncontrollably until heaving white-capped waves gently took her into the arms of the ocean. Lena imagined the freezing cold of the sea would feel much like the numbness pinning her to her seat at that moment.

 

            And she was so numb that she could hardly feel a thing. The only thing that registered to her was the searing heat of the scotch as she drained two within the first hour, after the customary glass of champagne that came with the luxury of her seat. She’d barely even heard the flight attendant when she’d spoken to her, had senselessly mumbled something in reply before requesting her scotch, and had been frozen to her seat ever since. She didn’t even realise she was shivering, her teeth chattering through numb, parted lips as she stared at the blank screen of the complementary TV, the soft cotton blanket provided going ignored.

 

            Instead, Lena was utterly and completely consumed by the yawning blackness that had opened up inside her chest. She felt completely hollow. Completely empty. It was like she’d been drained of any feeling with just a few short words and a broken heart, the capacity to process it having been snatched away from her as she was assaulted by unimaginable pain. Never in her life had she thought it was possible for something to hurt so much.

 

            It had hurt more than anything had any right to, so she’d done the only thing that she  _ could _ do and driven straight to the airport and booked the next flight leaving Metropolis. It was bound for Inverness, a city up in the Scottish Highlands, the northernmost city in the UK. There was a short layover in London along the way, which would’ve been a more practical choice under normal circumstances, but she’d been looking for an escape. Somewhere far away from anything that could cause her any modicum of pain, and Inverness had seemed like a great idea as she’d handed over her passport with a shaky hand and bought a First Class ticket with British Airways.

 

            She had no luggage to check. Nothing but her purse, a broken Cartier Tank wristwatch, one of the early models, and a folded photograph stuffed into the pocket of her suit jacket. With her plane ticket gripped tightly in her hand, she made her way through security and to the nearest airport bar, sat down at a stool and ordered a drink. Three drinks later, in rapid succession, her flight was being called and she made her way to her gate.

 

            Two hours into the first leg of her trip, and she could barely fathom a thought. All she knew was that she hurt, and the more she drank, the less it hurt. She filled that hollowness inside her with alcohol and it burned her up from the inside, but not nearly enough to take away the impenetrable coldness that had settled in her heart. Lena didn’t think she’d ever feel warm again.

 

            At some point, she drifted off. Not quite to sleep, but no longer entirely conscious of her surroundings. Her vision came in and out of focus, sounds whispered in the background, and she held on tightly to the empty plastic cup, her fingers stiff and her fingernails slightly purple from her poor circulation ten thousand feet in the air. It wasn’t until the captain announced their descent into London that she stirred, blinking herself back to wakefulness as her wandering mind tethered itself back to her body. 

 

            She was off the plane first, no luggage to collect and her second ticket clamped tightly in her left hand as her heels clicked on the tiled floors of the airport. In the airport lounge, she passed the time by staring at the snacks in the vending machine, standing there for nearly forty minutes before someone cleared their throat behind her and she pressed the code for a Kit Kat. Collecting her chocolate from the tray, she walked over to a cracked vinyl seat in the lounge and unwrapped it, taking a bite and forcing herself to swallow. It tasted of nothing and it got stuck in her throat. 

 

            In the end, she ordered a pint of Guinness at the bar and nursed the dark beer until her flight was called to their gate. Grimacing as she forced down the bitter stout, she wandered through the small airport and gathered outside the gate, where a smattering of people were waiting to board the plane. It was marginally smaller than the first one, and she found herself back in another seat, with more to drink at her beck and call. She didn’t touch the food.

 

            Eleven hours after taking off, she found herself walking onto the tarmac as she climbed down the rickety stairs positioned outside the door of the plane. The airport was small, the building itself a low, white, nondescript structure, and she was through it within minutes, hands in the pockets of the suit pants she was wearing, shivering in the late winter coldness as she walked back out into the frigid night of the Scottish Highlands. In hindsight, she realised she should’ve planned her trip better, but she hadn’t been in the right state of mind to do anything more than remember her passport at the time.

 

            Walking to the taxi rank, she waited in line until it was her turn to climb into the next waiting car, almost weak with relief as she bent her frozen body and ducked into the car, shivering violently against the worn fabric of the dusty, grey seats. The driver was blasting the heat and she managed to stammer out that she wanted to go to the city centre, before falling into silence, punctuated by the occasional rattling sound of her teeth chattering together. 

 

            It wasn’t a long drive to the city, and Lena watched as a small city, hemmed in between the rugged wilderness surrounding it, came into view. It was beautiful, even in the early evening, with delicate spires jutting up against a dark sky, old brown bricked buildings from a different era giving the city an old feeling as they were lit up yellow in the blackness. They passed over the River Ness, a calm, inky snake winding through the city, and she was dropped off on the High Street. 

 

            Her breath plumed before her as she wandered aimlessly in the dark, the night air freezing her to the bone, and she felt lost and so alone that a piece of her broke. At the sight of the first welcoming lights of a pub, she felt her body go slack, aching everywhere from the tension that had turned her body rigid. Stepping into the brown bricked pub with the wooden picnic tables outside and raucous noise spilling out into the quiet night was like stepping into a warm bath, and she felt the air rush out of her lungs as she stiffly moved towards the bar.

 

            It wasn’t packed, but it was full of noise as people spoke in their thick Scottish burr, drinking locally brewed beer and laughing as they watched the rugby. She found an empty stool and clambered up onto it, running a hand through her windswept hair as her rosy cheeks prickled from the heat. As warm as the room was, it didn’t even touch the ice inside her, and she clenched her hands into fists as she swallowed the rising emotions inside her, leaving half-moons gouged into her skin.

 

            It was a Saturday night, and the place steadily filled around her, while she sat oblivious to it. Nursing her drink, she wallowed in her misery, a confused look of pain etched into the lines of her face as she tried to understand. Reaching up, she clumsily groped at a thin gold chain hanging around her neck, with the tiny swallow pendant hanging from it. Feeling choked up as she gripped it tightly, she felt her heart fracture just a little bit more. It was a terrible betrayal. Lena had never felt so abandoned before. Not even when her father had died. Or her brother. This was something else. This was raw pain, true heartbreak, and she didn’t think it was something that she’d ever come back from. She’d been foolish to ever even think that Sam had loved her enough to stay with her. Instead, she’d been tossed aside and left devastated, and Lena didn’t think she’d ever heal from it. 

 

            This was the only escape for her now. The middle of nowhere, with whisky and cold weather that matched her mood. With only herself for company, because there was no one left for her now. No one but herself. And she hated herself. At that moment, she was filled with such self-loathing that she couldn’t even bear the thought of being stuck inside her own head. All she could think of doing now was drinking herself into a stupor and praying that it took away the pain and left her senseless.

 

            “You alright, lass?”

 

            She startled at the voice beside her, just loud enough to be heard over the noise. Looking up from her sweating glass of whisky, Lena turned to face the middle-aged man standing beside her at the bar. His ginger hair was starting to grey at the temples and a beard covered the lower half of his face. His blue eyes were wary as he leant against the scarred wood, waiting for the bartender to serve him, and Lena felt her cheeks grow warm as she met his stare. She looked awful, the grief of her heartbreak written in the lines of her face and the defeated slump of her shoulders. Ducking her head back down, dark hair forming a curtain between them as she hunched her shoulders and gripped her glass tighter.

 

            “Fine.”

 

            “You look upset.”

 

            Swallowing thickly, her body tensed even further, shoulders taut beneath the black suit jacket as she nervously bounced her foot against the footrest of her stool. “No.”

 

            “Right. Well, I know when  _ I’m  _ upset, a nice walk always helps to clear my head.”

 

            “I’ll need to go on a  _ long _ walk,” Lena said, letting out a short, bitter laugh.

 

            “Then it’s a good thing it’s a beautiful country. Here, another drink on me,” the man said as the bartender approached, handing over a folded note and gesturing to her glass. His voice was a soft, deep rumble as he gave her a friendly smile when she glanced up at him.

 

            Before she could protest, he walked off, taking a seat at a nearby booth, where a young man was shuffling a deck of cards. Lena watched them for a moment, coming to the conclusion that it was most likely his son before she turned back around in her seat and watched as the bartender topped up her whisky. 

 

            Melting ice cubes clinked in the bottom of her glass as she tipped the glass from side to side, watching as the golden liquid sloshed back and forth like the sea. Haltingly bringing the glass to her lips, she tipped it back and drained it, a fire tracing its way down her throat as she swallowed and set her glass back down on the worn bar with a stiff, precise movement, before pushing her stool back with the grating sound of the legs dragging across the wooden floor, and she gestured for the bartender to fetch the man a drink on her. Paying her bill, she wrapped her arms around herself and shouldered her way back out into the cold.

 

            It was impossibly colder and she was nearly bowled over by the shock of it, her whole body wracked with tremors as she hunched her shoulders and braced herself, walking back along the street, feeling the burning iciness trace its way down her throat. Her eyes were prickling with tiredness, lights bursting into blurry rays as her vision swam and her mind was enveloped in hazy disorientation. 

 

            The night was growing late, the moon hanging heavily in the sky like a silver coin, a dusting of stars shining brightly, and she somehow managed to stumble upon a hotel a few streets away. The Royal Highland Hotel was a three-story building with dark wooden panelling, tartan furnishings and antique furniture that she didn’t have the time to study before she’d promptly booked herself a room at the desk, walked up the carpeted staircase, took a left on the landing and up to the second floor, and passed out on her bed the moment she collapsed onto it.

 

            It was midday by the time she woke, uncomfortable and smelling strongly of alcohol as she lay bundled up beneath the heavy blankets, wearing yesterday’s clothes. Blinking back the bleariness in her eyes, she stretched out her stiff muscles and closed her eyes to the pounding headache at her temples. Her throat felt sore and scratchy and she gulped down a glass of water before stripping off her clothes and shivering as she waited for the water sputtering from the showerhead to turn hot. 

 

            Standing beneath the downpour, she let it scald her pale skin, running in rivulets down her body as she stood dejectedly beneath it, unable to bring herself to move. It seeped into her, relaxing her stiff muscles and washing away the smell of whisky that clung to her like a cloud, and she had to force herself to go through the motions after ten minutes of standing lifelessly beneath the torrent of water. Scrubbing herself with the small bar of soap, until her skin was prickling from the hard pressure of her scouring, and then washing her hair until it hung in black ropes, plastered to her wet skin, soap suds coursing down her in the stream of water and swirling down the drain, she eventually shut off the water.

 

            Dressed in yesterday’s clothes, Lena sat at the foot of her unmade bed, hair drying in damp tangles, and she stared down at the photograph she’d pulled from the front pocket of her suit jacket. It was of Sam. And Ruby. Lena felt a painful stab in her heart and folded the photo in half, before shoving it back into her pocket and letting out a shaky breath. 

 

            She ate breakfast at the hotel, sitting by herself and drinking strong coffee to clear her head, the bacon and eggs helping to settle her roiling stomach, and as soon as she’d finished, she stepped out onto the streets of Inverness. It was bitterly cold and wet, the pavements shining with the elusive colours of a rainbow from where it had rained all morning, and she buried her hands in the pockets of her pants and tried to stop her lips from trembling as she walked the streets. It occurred to Lena that she should probably buy some clothes.

 

            Finding a small clothing store, packed with puffy coats and waterproof jackets, she stepped into the small space, nodded a greeting to the man stocking backpacks on hooks, and wandered through the narrow aisles. She came upon a stand of books near the back, with maps of the Highlands and Lowlands, hiking advice and about nature. Picking up one of the flimsy paper maps, she unfolded it and took in the sprawling mass of Scotland. She was as north as one could get in a city there, and she imagined it only got colder and lonelier the further north one went, but there was so much to the south too. National parks and towns and cities, right up to the border of England.

 

            Glancing around at the items stocked in the shop, she hesitated, softly biting her bottom lip as she looked at one of the monstrous backpacks that looked like it would dwarf her. As she took in the walking poles and tanned hiking boots, the bobble hats and thermal gloves, she recalled the man from the pub the night before. Walking was a good way to clear her head, and she had a lot to forget. But it was a long walk to England. 

 

            The more she thought about it, the more that it seemed like a good idea. She had nowhere to be, no one that cared to find out where she was. That much was very clear to her. Staring down at the map, she gently touched her fingertip to  _ Inverness _ typed in small black letters, and traced her way down the green spots on the map, past the names of towns and cities, blue puddles indicating massive lochs, or the winding lines of rivers. It would be a long walk, but that was just what Lena needed. People went on walking holidays all the time. They even had guided tours for it. But Lena wasn’t in the mood for company and was stubborn enough to relish the challenge of hiking cross-country. She’d never so much as been camping before, but how hard could it be, living in the wilderness for a few weeks?

 

            Picking up a khaki parka, she tried it on and zipped herself into the cosiness of it, smiling faintly to herself as she walked around the store with a purpose. By the end of it, she’d deposited a small mountain on items on the counter, in front of the bemused man, and gave him a slight smile as she handed over her credit card.

 

            “Going hiking?”

 

            “Yes. Yes, I am.”

 

            He nodded, smiling slightly as he started punching in the price of all of her items. There were tan waterproof walking boots, a brown hiking backpack with too many pockets and straps for her to count, a thermos and water bottle, thick socks, a thermal sleeping bag, a torch and some changes of clothes. She’d found a thick pine green sweater made from Shetland wool, flecked with cream and black, and couldn’t resist it, as well as a few t-shirts and a pair of waterproof trousers. Tossing in a scarf and a knitted hat, she felt determined as she watched the man add up the total cost, brimming slightly with anticipated and willful stubbornness to see this through.

 

            Leaden down with bags of belongings, she thanked the man and left, making a quick stop at a supermarket and tossing in an abundance of light snacks, before walking back towards the hotel with long strides, eagerness creeping up on her as she tried to stamp down the grief that threatened to overwhelm her. She had a purpose now. She wasn’t going to just sit in a hotel in the north of Scotland, moping about and dwelling on her pain, she was going to walk. Walk until her feet bled and she passed out from exhaustion until she achieved some sort of absolution and rewarding feeling that could fill the void inside her. With a stubborn set to her jaw, she told herself that if she did this, she’d be good enough for Sam. Good enough for anyone who thought that they could toss her aside so easily, leave her broken and numb, while they picked someone else instead of her. That’s what had made it sting so much more, that there had been someone else. Someone that  _ was _ good enough for Sam, and it hadn’t been Lena.

 

            Anger slowly burned to life as Lena felt a stab of betrayal in her heart, and she quickened her pace, breezing into the hotel and up to her room with flushed, wind-bitten cheeks turned red, and eyes bright with pain and firm purpose. In a frenzy, she tore the bags apart, leaving her new belongings strewn everywhere as she ripped labels off and removed wrappers before she lost some of her vengeance. Feeling tired, cold and miserable, she came to a sudden stop on the carpeted floor of the room, kneeling amongst her things, and found that she was breathing raggedly, her hands shaking as she folded t-shirts and put batteries into her new torch.

 

            Letting out a shaky breath, she tried to calm herself down, closing her eyes and breathing slowly. With each inhale, she found the tension inside her unwind slightly, the knot in her stomach loosening as she clenched her fingers into fists and tried to stop the tremors that wracked her body. As hard as she was trying to convince herself that she was okay, that she could do this, and it would make her hurt less inside, she knew that it was a lie that she was feeding herself. She just wanted to hear Sam’s voice. Lena wanted to hear that warmth that laced her words when she spoke to her, the way that it made her insides burn with desire, made her feel special until they hadn’t. But she wanted to hear her voice anyway.

 

            Making the sudden decision to call her, Lena quickly rose to her feet and rushed across the room, snatching the phone up off the nightstand and jostling the mattress of the unmade bed as she sat down. Taking a deep breath, she reached out, hand trembling, and punched in the familiar numbers of Sam’s phone. Closing her eyes, her lips moved in quiet prayer, and she felt the tautness of her body go slack as the phone rang and rang and rang. And there was Sam’s voice as it went to voicemail, soft and sweet and making Lena hurt so much that she almost thought she could cry. She hadn’t cried in years.

 

_             “Hi, you’ve reached Sam. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you.” _

 

            There was a small beep and Lena found herself floundering for a moment, considering hanging up. And then she found the words tumbling out of her, the pain almost unbearable as she felt her heart break just a little bit more, while hope foolishly flared to life in her chest. Perhaps she’d answer, or at least return the call. That would be something.

 

            “Hey, it’s me,” she said, her voice cracking slightly as she pressed the plastic hotel phone to her ear, “I know you’re not going to pick up, I just- I wanted to tell you that I was sorry. I know I was mad at you, but … it hurt. It hurts  _ so _ much.”

 

            She fell silent as she let out a shuddering breath, closing her eyes as she swallowed the lump that rose in her throat. Twisting the telephone cord around her finger, she drew her knees up to her chest as she perched on the edge of the bed, trying to stoke a warmth inside her, although she couldn’t help but shiver. The sky was grey outside, miserable and damp, with dark clouds looming heavily over the small city, and it was so uninspiring that Lena thought it would be near impossible for her to feel anything but cold. 

 

            “I’m in Scotland right now,” she suddenly confessed, aware that her time was running out. “You always said I should travel more, so … I’m here. You always said you’d take me to Paris. I think I’m going to go there. I was … I thought that- I know you didn’t pick me. I know we left things .... badly, but I- I’m going to Paris, and I’ll wait there for you. If you want to come.”

 

            Pressing her lips together as the words fell from her lips, the quiet plea hesitantly making itself known as a plan formed in her mind, Lena paused for a moment.

 

            “I have to go now. I’ll see you soon … maybe.”

 

            Slamming the phone back down on the hook, she uncurled from her ball and rose fluidly to her feet, running a hand through her hair as she looked around the small hotel room, littered with her new belongings. Her intention had been to run away, to hide and nurse her wounded heart and let go of her anger, but she had a plan now. Paris. It was a place she’d been to before, but always for work. She’d been practical with her travelling, meeting with antiquities buyers and sellers, lugging old lamps and statues with her, bringing back silver powder boxes and tiny golden pocket watches. Sam had travelled. Everywhere and anywhere, not to look at dusty antiques, but to immerse herself in the culture, and she’d regaled Lena with stories of her travels while she’d hung onto every word. Paris had been her favourite place in the world; she always said she was going to take Lena there one day.

 

            Lena would go there herself. She needed time to clear her head, and the man’s suggestion about a walk was a good idea, and by the time she caught a ferry across the English Channel and into France, she imagined she’d have had a lot of time to reflect on everything. Hopefully, when she got there, Sam would be there too.

 

            Packing all of her belongings, she left out a change of clothes and went to shower. The hot water rejuvenated her, brought a prickling heat to her stiff muscles, and she dressed in warm clothes after she’d dried herself off, smelling freshly of soap and feeling a little more human. Wearing her new sweater over a thermal shirt, she put on her waterproof pants, shoved her feet into her thick socks and walking boots, and zipped her coat up. Shouldering her backpack, she groaned beneath the weight of it, before straightening up and squaring her shoulders.

 

            She could do this. She had to.   
  



	2. Chapter 2

_“When autumn scatters his departing gleams,_

_Warn'd of approaching winter, gather'd, play_

_The swallow-people; and toss'd wide around,_

_O'er the calm sky, in convolution swift,_

_The feather'd eddy floats; rejoicing once,_

_Ere to their wintry slumbers they retire.”_

 

_“Where’s that from?”_

 

_“James Thomson. The Seasons, Autumn.”_

 

_Lena watched as Sam traced a delicate finger over the swallow tattooed on her wrist in indigo ink. Its wings flared out behind it and forked tail fluttered behind like ribbons. It was small and a deep blue against the thin, tanned skin of Sam’s inner wrist, staring back at her with beady eyes. She’d always been obsessed with swallows, loved them the way that Lena loved her._

 

_-_

 

            The first day was refreshing. She’d set out shortly before noon, heading south out of Inverness and into the wilds of the Scottish Highlands. Green hills thrust up from the surrounding wilderness, rocky juts and crags interrupting the expanse of land stretching out in front of her, and the cold burned deep in Lena’s chest as she stomping along at a brisk pace, trampling grass and yellow buttercups beneath her new boots as she held her flimsy paper map in hands.

 

            She was going south, all the way to England, with nothing but a compass and a piece of paper to guide her. It sounded silly when she dwelled on her decision. Dangerous to go alone. Risks of injuries highly probable with loose stones and roots and hidden blanket bogs, allowing peat to develop in wet hollows, waiting to trip her or swallow her up. But the air was fresh. It smelled green and damp, a thin mist laying low over the ground as a grey sky leeched the life out of its surroundings, and Lena couldn’t help but find it beautiful.

 

            It became less beautiful as dusk set in, casting long shadows over the uneven ground, patches of wet grass causing her to slip as dew gathered and the cold night was ushered in. A narrow beam of yellow light illuminated the way as she followed the A9, across patchwork fields and around thickets of alders and pines.

 

            That first day, Lena walked for nine hours, the sky pitch black and studded with more stars than she’d ever seen before. Freezing cold and stiff, face numb and belly hollow after nothing but trail mix and a sandwich she’d bought from Asda before leaving Inverness, she walked the road into Carrbridge with overwhelming relief. She could feel painful blisters on her feet, the wetness of blood soaking her frozen toes, her breath hung in the air before her in a white cloud, and her bottom lip had been caught between chattering teeth more than once as she’d tramped across the countryside.

 

            With each step, she’d told herself that she was proving a point. With each step, she wondered more and more if she was proving a point to Sam or herself. But as she stopped outside the first lodge she came open, she was filled with relief at the fact that the day had come to a close. A nineteenth-century inn stood on the banks of the River Dulnain, built from brown stone with a grey slate roof, and Lena stepped into the warm lobby and hoarsely booked a room for herself before she was led upstairs and shown to a small, clean bedroom.

 

            Dumping her backpack on the floor, Lena felt featherlight, almost as if she was going to float away, relieved of the heavy burden she’d carried for twenty-three miles. Her shoulders ached and she shuffled around the edge of the double bed with its grey tartan headboard and sank down onto the mattress. With trembling fingers, she leant down and unlaced her hiking boots and exhaled sharply as she pulled them off, freeing her feet from the pinching confines of the tanned leather. The toes of her socks were dark with blood, and she let out a hiss of pain as she peeled them off, revealing a mess of blisters and raw skin.

 

            A small bath was crammed into the bathroom and she let scalding water fill the tub as she shed her parka and unwound the scarf from around her neck with stiff fingers. Pulling off her precious Shetland wool sweater, she tossed it onto the bed and stripped off her thermal shirt and waterproof pants, her thighs pink from the numbing coldness of walking, and she shivered as she stepped into the tiled bathroom. A chill seemed to seep out of the tiles, but steam was curling off the surface of the rising water in the bath, and Lena didn’t hesitate to step into it, biting back a curse as her feet were enveloped in pain.

 

            Sinking all the way down into the scalding water, she seemed to deflate all at once. Head underneath the water, she closed her eyes and held her breath, dark hair fanning out around her in a silky cloud, and she revelled in the feeling of warmth as her body regained some of its feeling. Not in her chest, of course. That was still cold and empty and numb, the part of it that still loved Sam, regardless of how much it hurt to, shoved down deep inside as she locked it away and tried to convince herself that it _didn’t_ hurt.

 

            It did though. It hurt so much that even after walking for nine hours in the bitter cold of the Highlands, she didn’t feel triumphant. She didn’t feel like she’d proven a point to anyone, not even herself, and she felt wretched as she wallowed in the bath, head underwater until her lungs were ready to burst. Resurfacing with a wave of water and a gasping breath, Lena slicked her sopping hair back and drew her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and held herself together as she hunched her shoulders and ran her mind over the cracks in her heart.

 

            She sat in the water until the tiled walls were sweating with beads of hot water and her stomach was rumbling so loudly that she couldn’t ignore it. Climbing out, she wrapped herself in a towel and walked back into the tiny room, redressing in her pine green sweater, hugging its warmth to herself, and set about making herself a cup of tea with the kettle provided. It was late, and the hotel had long since gone quiet, with everyone in their respective rooms and dinner finished for the night, so Lena fished a bruised apple out of her pack and quickly polished it off, along with a packet of cheese and crackers.

 

            In bed, she pored over the map she’d brought with her while she nursed her tea, gently blowing on it until it was cool enough to drink. It warmed her stomach and tricked her into thinking she was full, and soon her eyes were itching with tiredness. Switching off the lights, she burrowed beneath the heavy goose-down quilt, her bare legs curled up to her chest as she huddled in her sweater, and she closed her eyes, hoping that sleep came for her quickly so she wouldn’t have time to let her mind wander.

 

            At the crack of dawn, she woke to dark grey sunlight filtering in through the open curtains and rose to stare out at the green hills spreading out from the small town, while below her, the narrow streets with its old buildings were starting to come to life as people rose for work. She had a view of the river below, the water nearly black as it trundled along below, and she could see the beginnings of the northern end of the Cairngorms National Park on the horizon. As far as the eye could see, she was treated to sights of the surrounding forest and moorland and mountains, narrow, winding paths leading through them and off into the distance towards history and wildlife. It was still early, the sun nothing more than a thin line of brightness lifting the impenetrable darkness of night and turning everything into silvery shadows, but she could see the sheen of ice crusting on the plantlife crowding the riverbed below, and knew that in the deeper valleys, the air in front of her would be hidden by a thick fog.

 

            With the thought of exploring and some walking waiting for her, Lena had a brisk, hot shower to breathe some life back into her, dressed in her thermal clothes and made sure her feet were bandaged and thickly layered in socks, before the carried her backpack downstairs and settled down in a red leather armchair in a sitting room on the ground floor. She sat at a bay window looking onto the street, the floor carpeted in red and green tartan and round mahogany tables wedged in between chairs, and she drank strong, bitter coffee and ate bacon and eggs in the warmth of an old wood stove burning orange as it ate up freshly cut logs and filled the room with the slight comforting smell of burning wood.

 

            She paid for her meal and left after that, pausing to admire the infamous Pack Horse Bridge, before following the main road through the village south, pausing at a bakery and buying two pies and a cherry bakewell to take with her. Lena walked for nine hours that day, crunching over icy leaves and twigs before the sun warmed the ground and the air was filled with the smell of petrichor and decay. As she walked she admired the wildlife, catching sight of Scottish crossbills perching in pine trees, their burnt orange feathers standing out amidst the forest of green. Red squirrels occasionally scrambled up a tree trunk, darts of russet fur that Lena barely caught a glimpse of, and she occasionally caressed the flowering tips of hogweed and myrtle as she walked, cold and miserable, but unwilling to stop. She was going to walk to England, and then she was going to France, and that was that. It was almost a matter of pride, or what little an embarrassed Lena had left, and she was unwilling to give up just because her feet hurt and the cold lanced down her throat like a white-hot branding rod.

 

            It took her ten days in all to walk to Glasgow.

 

            Footsore and so drained she could barely bring herself to put another foot in front of the other, she followed the path she’d drawn on her map, skirting steel blue lakes and lochs, walking alongside snaking rivers of dank green water, listening to ducks quack in the reeds as willow trees dipped their boughs into the running water. The weather was wet and harsh the whole time, raining on more than one occasion and leaving her damp and shivering when she stumbled upon an inn that had room for her and a hot meal.

 

            Three times there had been no nearby inns or hotels, and Lena had walked through the dark, the hour growing later and her body stiffer with cold, hoping that her torch would fall on a cosy place for her to spend the night, with no avail. She’d unrolled her sleeping bag when she’d grown too tired to walk any further, and found shelter beneath the canopy of whatever trees were around, struggling out of her parka and donning as many layers as she could to fight off the cold, before cramming herself into the sleeping bag and forcing nuts and dried fruit through her blue lips, before zipping every inch of herself into the thin nylon of the sleeping bag. Despite the fact that it was thermal, she could feel the cold radiating up through the hard ground, and the only thing that gave her any confidence that she _wouldn’t_ freeze to death was the fact that she was shivering so much that she knew that hypothermia hadn’t set in.

 

            Three times she’d suffered through a bed on the forest floor, rising to the sound of birds chattering in the trees and emerging from the cocoon of her sleeping bag like a bedraggled, wingless butterfly, skin so pale it was almost blue and body so rigid from the way her muscles had ceased to relax all night that it was almost painful for her to clamber out of the meagre warmth the sleeping bag offered. Body bruised and aching from roots and rocks digging into her back all night, Lena would stretch out her sore muscles and sip mouthfuls of freezing cold water from her canteen before peeling off a few layers, packing everything up and setting off again. When she saw an inn the next evening, it was always with more appreciation and weak relief.

 

            But still, it was a lonely walk. Lena was so lonely that she thought it would swallow her up, consume her and break her, and on more than one occasion she found herself talking to a bird or a squirrel when she sat down to rest, drinking water and delving into her paltry stores, scattering nuts and dried berries on the bed of rotting leaves, trying to coax the creatures closer. The stunted conversation with hotel managers and cashiers in the odd bakery or local store were almost welcome too - _almost_ \- and Lena could see the bewildered looks of concern in their eyes, or occasionally amusement when they asked what brought her to their small town and she told them she was walking to England.

 

            She knew what she looked like, red-cheeked, stiff from cold, lips bluish and trembling as she tried to put conviction in her words. In the bathroom mirrors at hotels, she took in the ragged air about her, dark hair tangled from a day of being tossed about by the wind, chapped lips and a gauntness to her face, making her already prominent cheekbones look even sharper. Her eyes were bruised with shadows and there was a permanent layer of dirt around her, the smell of pine and dew clinging to her no matter how many baths and showers she had. But she carried on nonetheless, the gaping hole in her chest growing bigger and bigger, no number of miles making the heartache hurt any less.

 

            It was a bitter disappointment for Lena. She’d been expecting to do some healing, to move on in some capacity so that when she reached Paris and hopefully met Sam there, she wouldn’t be greeting her as the wreck that she was. There was still time for her to sort herself out though. Still, a lot of miles and a stretch of water before she made it to Paris. Lena just kept telling herself that it would get better. She wouldn’t stop missing Sam or wanting her, but it would get easier, the pain would hurt less, and she’d have pieced herself back together again in time to win back the woman who’d left her. Clinging to the thought with everything she had, Lena passed through Glasgow with little time for sightseeing or rest and carried on her way.

 

            Twenty days after she’d set out from Inverness, she reached Gretna Green in the south of Scotland, bordering on England, and was filled with triumph. No matter how tired she was, how much her feet hurt, a mass of blisters and calluses, how much her body ached and how many bruises and grazes she’d amassed from tripping over, she’d made it. Over craggy knolls and through thickets and over rivers, she’d walked through the Lowlands and over patchwork fields in the bitter February weather of late winter, and she’d made it all the way to the border.

 

            But she _was_ tired, and it felt like a hollow victory. She hadn’t really achieved anything except a few injuries and a hacking cough that had developed shortly after leaving Glasgow. She’d left three more voicemails for Sam and was left feeling hopeless with the nagging thought that there would be no one waiting for her in Paris. In fact, she knew it. As she crossed the border separating the two countries, she was bowed beneath her pack, cheeks flushed pink and forehead feverish, pursuing the wishful fantasy that the woman she loved would come back to her, would love her. And it was all in vain.

 

            A few miles outside Carlisle, in the north-west of England, she came to a sudden stop in a field of grazing sheep, just shy of the motorway to her left, and stood there, chest heaving as sweat prickled her forehead and she drew in ragged breaths. It felt like her backpack was pulling her down, impossibly heavy and she slid it off and let it drop to the field of lush green grass, landing in a heavy, muffled thump, before tilting her head up to the sky.

 

            Keeling over in the middle of a field of knee-high grass, Lena lay on her back, staring up at the grey sky, cheeks rosy from the biting wind and her throat and lungs burning from the cold. A fit of coughing overcame her and she bucked on the bed of grass, throat scratchy and hoarse as it started to rain. A light shower poured down on her, peppering her face and pooling in the shallows of her eyes as she tried to blink it back, a fever seizing her as she lay limply in the field.

 

            She could’ve stayed there forever, she had no motivation to move, but a short while later came the soft plodding of hooves as a sheep wandered towards her, nibbling at the grass. Jumping in surprise, she startled the woolly animal as she bolted upright, wiping the rain from her face with the sleeve of her parka as she sniffed and coughed, before climbing to her feet and brushing off blades of grass clinging to her back. Hoisting her heavy bag onto her shoulders with a groan of effort, she exhaled sharply and grit her teeth, before carrying on.

 

            It was another hour before she reached Carlisle, sought out the nearest pharmacy and swallowed a few pills, before heading towards the nearest hotel. Dragging her feet, she walked with weary resignation and the stubborn logic that she’d said she’d walk to _England._ She was _in_ England, and she was sick and tired and had no motivation to carry on. Walking for weeks in near total isolation had been rough, and while she wasn’t opposed to enjoying her own company, something had broken inside her when Sam had broken her heart, and she wanted to go home. But she refused to. Instead, she holed herself up in a cheap hotel for five days.

 

            Her cold and barking cough started to clear up a few days later, most of it spent beneath the clean sheets of her twin bed, hand clutching the broken Cartier watch as she let the fever run its course and swallowed pills as often as she could. The only time she left her room was for food, and by the fourth day, she was feeling a lot better. After endless hours of drifting in and out of sleep on a soft mattress, giving her feet time to heal and filling her stomach with three hearty meals a day, she felt more like herself again and was starting to see reason. Along with reason came her stubbornness and reluctance to admit defeat.

 

            She wasn’t _going home._ Just because she’d had her fill of walking didn’t mean that the trip was over, and there was still a shred of hope hiding in her heart, hope that Sam would come to France. Resting a few more days though, she took to wandering the city, stopping at Carlisle Castle and picking up a forest green t-shirt with a white sketch of the mass of stone printed on it. Still burning a fever, it was nice to walk around in the t-shirt with fresh air cooling her skin, and she bought a pair of stonewashed jeans too, relishing the feeling of a clean pair of normal pants. Feeling less like a hiker and more like a tourist, she visited museums and galleries, ate in pubs and coffee shops and browsed in shops as she waited for inspiration to strike her.

 

            Passing by a dusty antique store on the sixth day, feeling marginally better, Lena paused and found herself staring at a golden mantel clock sitting on a velvet cushion in the window full of polished chairs from the eighteenth century and a dinner plates from the last century. Stopping, she turned to look at it, squinting slightly, before she bit her lip and pushed open the door to the shop, a small bell tinkling to announce her arrival. It was gloomy inside the shop, an old brass chandelier casting everything in a buttery glow, and she gave the old man behind the counter a hesitant look as he perked up at a customer.

 

            “Ah, can I help you, miss?”

 

            Gesturing towards the display window, Lena frowned slightly, “I was looking at a clock in your window. Could I please see it?”

 

            He hurried out from behind the mahogany counter and walked over to the window, thin hands with papery, wrinkled skin gently picking up the mantel clock with care, before carrying it back to the counter. Setting it down carefully, he gestured towards it and gave Lena a kind smile.

 

            “It’s an antique-”

 

            “Ormolu mantel clock,” Lena finished, reaching out to pick it up, eyeing it carefully, “eighteenth century?”

 

            “You have a good eye.”

 

            She hummed in agreement as she turned it over carefully, examining the gold-mercury amalgam that had been applied to the bronze metal beneath, giving it its gleaming gold gilt carriage. Setting it back down on the counter, she stared at it intently.

 

            “Are you a lover of antiques?”

 

            “I’m a horologist,” Lena curtly replied.

 

            “Oh, how wonderful. It’s so rare to see young people take such an interest in antique clockwork these days.”

 

            Glancing up at him, Lena gave him an apprehensive look, before gesturing to the clock. “How much?”

 

            She left the antique store with the clock nestled in a cardboard box. It didn’t work, and the man had sold it to her for a measly hundred pounds, along with a set of clock repair tools in a leather roll, and Lena found something akin to excitement stirring to life inside her. It was almost like a sign. A broken clock for the antique clockmaker; if she could fix that, then she could fix her heart. Hope bloomed to life inside her, and Lena found herself with purpose once more. If she did this, then Sam would take her back. She fixed broken things for a living for her family’s business; she would fix this too. Fix everything.

 

            Taking her new broken toy back to her hotel, she packed in a hurry, not a clue in the world where she was off to, but with a renewed determination to make it to Paris. She’d always had a knack for clocks, for fixing any manner of broken things, but clocks mostly, and she relished the thought of fixing this one again, making it tick and restart its life again. She couldn’t wait to do that herself. Although she knew it was childish to think of it in such terms, she viewed the clock as a metaphor of herself. Her heart was broken, and she just needed to get it ticking again. Once she met up with Sam again and made her see that they were right for each other, it would be fixed, as easy as fixing a clock.

 

            But in a moment of brooding, she pulled the Cartier wristwatch out of the pocket of her coat and looked down at the still hands and thought about how she hadn’t been able to fix that one. She’d fixed hundreds of clocks, some of them staggeringly expensive, but she hadn’t been able to fix such a small little thing. It had been bought with the intention of being a gift a while back, but after things had gone wrong, had left her grief-stricken and broken, she hadn’t gotten around to fixing it. Closing her fingers around its face, she swallowed thickly and put the watch safely back in her pocket, silently promising herself that she’d fix that one before Paris too. She’d fix as much as she could, and mend herself along the way.

 

            If Sam met her there, in the city of love - _when_ she met her there - it would be with Lena whole and deserving of her. Things would be different this time, and Sam wouldn’t be able to toss her aside so easily. Lena _loved_ her. And she knew that Sam loved her too - she’d said as much herself - and she wasn’t going to let her go that easily. There had to be something she could do, or what else was all of the pain and heartache for? She couldn’t just move on with her life and pretend that she’d never loved her, that Sam had meant nothing to her, that she hadn’t _hurt_ her. Letting out a shaky breath, Lena reached down for her heavy pack, grabbed the box with her new clock in hand, and walked out of the room and checked out.

 

            At the bus station, she bought a ticket for the nearest bus departing Carlisle, and soon found herself sitting on a worn grey seat near the window on a bus bound for Lancaster. It was south, even if it wasn’t anywhere in particular, and she relaxed into her seat with the knowledge that she didn’t have to walk anywhere. Clutching her box to her chest, she stared out the window and took in the green countryside as the bus jostled along and eventually lulled her off to sleep.

 

            When Lena woke, they were nearly at Lancaster, and she found the thrill of her decision wearing off. Left behind was the pit of emptiness and the despair that had hung over her like a cloud since she’d run away from Metropolis. Trying to keep the pain at bay as she was hit with a swarm of memories, she squeezed her eyes shut and dug her fingernails into the palms of her hand, the pain overtaking everything as she tried to take her mind off the hollow feeling inside her. She had a purpose now; the pain would go away if she did this.

 

            Yet as she stumbled off the bus half an hour later, she was left lost and alone in a city she didn’t know. With nothing to do, she wandered around with her box and backpack, finding her shoulders slumping more and more as she was left feeling irritated and angry with herself, with Sam, with her brother and the woman she didn’t even know who’d taken the only person she’d ever loved away from her. Buying a pastie and a coffee, she found herself sitting on a bench a stone throw away from a canal, where narrowboats were parked like cars, waiting to be hired out by the rental companies.

 

            Sitting there in brooding silence, shoulders braced against the wind, Lena watched the boats rock with the gentle lapping of the canal, watching the occasional person on deck as they strode about with purpose. Nearby there was an old narrowboat with a black hull and emerald green side panels with a ruby red trim. A large piece of cardboard was situated on the stern with two words printed on it that caught Lena’s attention. _For Sale._

 

            A man was leaning against the railing around the stern, smoking as he looked out at the water, and Lena quickly scrambled to her feet, brushing crumbs of pastry off her parka and lugging her bag and box with her as she hurried over towards the stone edge of the canal.

 

            “Excuse me!” she hoarsely shouted to the man, who looked up at her, blowing out a stream of smoke before flicking the butt of his cigarette into the eddying water.

 

            “Yeah?”

 

            “How much for the boat?”

 

            He straightened up slightly, running a hand over his shaved head, giving her a wary look. “Ten thousand.”

 

            Opening and closing her mouth, Lena eyed it, taking in the cracked paint and the air of neglect around it and gave the man a shrewd look. “I’ll give you six in cash.”

 

            Pausing for a moment, the man deliberated before nodding. Allowing a brief smile of satisfaction to flit across her face, perhaps the first one in a long while, Lena politely asked him to wait there, before quickly making her way towards a bank. Having lived in London for a while, Lena had a British bank account, and with only a small hassle and a short wait, she was soon walking out of the bank with her backpack clutched safely to her, weighed down even further with wads of cash she’d just been handed.

 

            The man was still waiting for her, smoking another cigarette, and he beckoned her on board as she warily approached. Stepping onto the deck, she lurched to one side as it rocked slightly beneath her, staggering before righting herself, and eyed the man as he gestured towards the door into the long cabin.

 

            “Want to take a look around first?”

 

            Walking down the three steps into the cabin, Lena took in the narrow spice, finding it surprising spacious and bright, the walls, floor and ceiling completely outfitted in polished planks of amber alder and giving it a homely look. The galley was at the back of the boat as she walked in, leading onto the stern, and had a small gas hob, a stove and a small fridge-freezer. Passing by the wood stove she walked into the saloon area, finding a pine green settee nestled against one wall, which the man assured her pulled out into a double bed, while a free-standing table could be stowed away.

 

            Towards the front of the boat, there were cupboards built in for storage, and a tiny bathroom cubicle holding a small shower, a sink and a toilet. Beyond that was the bedroom at the very front, with a fixed double bed and doors that opened to give a view out of the front of the boat. It was all surprisingly clean and well kept, and the man rooted around the place for a few moments, gathering up a few things he’d been using, before telling Lena she could keep the kitchen utensils and whatever supplies were left.

 

            Slipping her a set of keys, he shook out a plastic Tesco bag and Lena unzipped her backpack, wads of cash spilling out as she tossed them into the bag. Giving her a curious look the man gave her a slight smile.

 

            “You ever done this before, love?”

 

            “No.”

 

            “Well … good luck to you,” he chuckled with amusement and thinly veiled doubt as he held a hand out to her.

 

            Shaking it, she gave him a nod and herded him towards the back door. He stepped out and hopped down onto the brick wall lining the canals, starting up a tuneless whistle as he swung the shopping bag, and Lena breathed in the bracing cold air as she stood on the swaying deck of her new impulsively bought narrowboat. A thought seized her and she quickly darted towards the railing, clutching rusting black metal in her hands as she leaned over, her dark hair tossed around her head by the wind.

 

            “Hey!”

 

            The man stopped and turned, raising his eyebrows slightly.

 

            “What’s its name?”

 

            He pointed towards the side of the boat, where yellow letters were painted on it, upside down to Lena as she tried to get a good look.

 

            “Tess.”


	3. Chapter 3

_Dear Sam,_

 

_You left. Just like everyone else and I feel so lost without you. When you left, it was like you took everything with you. Every little piece of me. Everything except the pain. It’s the only thing I can feel these days, and I think I should be angry at you for that, but I can’t feel anything else. It’s like a hole has opened up inside me. But in a way I’m glad; it’s the only reminder that I ever loved you. I think you loved me too, even if it wasn’t enough. I think that hurts the most, knowing that I wasn’t enough. I understand that you picked her, and you love her too, but I know you loved me too and it hurt you to hurt me. You care; you always have. Am I naive in thinking that you still care about me?_

 

_I called you and you didn’t answer, and I wasn’t expecting you to, but I hate that I can’t talk to you. I don’t know who else to talk to; I don’t have anyone else to talk to. I’m in England now and I’ve bought a boat. My offer to meet you in Paris still holds, and I’ll let you know when I get closer to France. I think I might be a while - I’ve got a lot of healing to do first - but I hope that I find you there. I’m hoping that you will, but I won’t ask you to pick me over her, because I don’t know her, and I don’t hate her, but I want to see you again nonetheless. In any capacity. Friends. Family. Even just for you to leave me again. I have nothing left to lose at this point._

 

_Yours always,_

_Lena_

 

_-_

 

            Lingering in Lancaster for a few days, Lena scrubbed the interior of the narrowboat with bleach until she was satisfied the place was clean. She bought new sheets for the bed, did inventory on the boat, finding a rusty fishing rod, an old record player with a single vinyl - Fleetwood Mac’s _Rumors -_ and a few dusty paperbacks on bird watching, a battered copy of the _Iliad_ and an endless pile of maps of the canals and waterways in England. With her measly supplies, the boat was mostly empty, and with a few trips to various stores, she managed to scrounge up the basics; something to eat with, something to cook in, and groceries that would keep in the miles between stores.

 

            There was also a manual on driving the boat, and she spent two days poring over the thin volume before she decided to leave just after lunch on a Tuesday. Untying the fore and aft mooring ropes that held the boat tied to the bank and let the idling boat be gently pulled into the current of the slow-moving green water. In gear, she eased the throttle forward and accelerated slowly, trying to get a feel for the long craft and how it moved. _Tess_ rotated near its midpoint, and it took some slow manoeuvring for Lena to get the narrowboat straight, slowly chugging along as she guided the tiller and accelerated at intervals.

 

            Quickly getting the hang of it, she sailed the boat away from Lancaster, heading south, and moored on a grassy bank, killing the engine and tying the aft mooring rope to the trunk of a willow standing sagely on the bank, its drooping boughs scraping against the side of the boat as Lena stomped through soft mud and a crop of green grass. Clambering back onto the stern, feet thumping on the wooden deck, Lena moved through the small galley, through to the berth with her bed tucked neatly into the tight space, and through to the tiny triangular bow, unravelling the rope and jumping onto the damp bank to secure the fore of the boat.

 

            It had been slow-moving down the canal and the sky was grey and indigo as the weak wintry sun started to set. With lights on inside the narrowboat, it stood like a golden beacon in the early dusk, the faint sounds of _You Make Loving Fun_ drifting through the open door, and Lena sat on the fold-out deckchair on the stern, reading the _Iliad_ in the fading light as the sounds of the gently running water and singing of winter birds flitting through the trees, the soft sounds disturbing the night.

 

            As it grew darker, the night turned colder and she burrowed into her soft green sweater and made her way inside, pouring two fingers of whiskey into chipped enamel mug and opened a can of chicken soup, lighting the small stove and settling down on the small booth at the midpoint of the narrowboat. The comforting smell of soup filled the small space and woodsmoke from the small wood stove made it snug as she eyed the golden mantle clock on the table.

 

            Setting her battered book aside, she ran her fingers over the disassembled cogs and wheels, arms and tension springs neatly arrayed in a row on a thin cloth. She’d started working on it the night before, disassembling it all and identifying the parts she’d need to fix it. Lena was hoping to pick them up in Preston when she arrived there in three days. Until then, she was happy to sit there and polish the pieces, reassembling the clock face and the delicate levers as best she could while her dinner simmered on the stove. It was quiet work, but it distracted her, and that was all she wanted.

 

            After she’d eaten and washed up in the tiny sink, she poured herself a little more whiskey and sat down at the table with a pad of paper that had been left in the drawer and a ballpoint pen and started writing a letter. Her thoughts were starting to blur by the end of it, her vision blurring with creeping tiredness, and she locked the door to the cabin, made sure the door to the wood stove was tightly shut and walked towards her small room. Stripping off her stiff jeans, Lena crawled beneath the covers, wrapping them tightly around her, enjoying the feeling of soft cotton against her bare legs, and let the boat rock her to sleep with the gentle lapping of the current.

 

            She woke to birdsong and pale sunshine streaming in through the small windows, her hands cold and a gentle tremor running through her body. Scrambling on the wooden floorboards for her jeans, she tugged them on, pulled a pair of fuzzy socks out of the drawer and donned her heavy parka, before shuffling out into the galley and lighting the stove. Filling a metal teapot with frigid water, she left it to boil over the blue flames and opened the door to let in a flood of cold air.

 

            Jamming her feet into her walking boots, Lena stepped outside, stomping loudly on the deck as her breath plumed before her, cheeks pinching with the cold, and she looked around at the low layer of fog blanketing the riverbank and the ghostly shapes of leafless trees stretching their skeletal branches skywards. It was early dawn, the sky grey with shadows, a few speckles of stars still awake, and she smiled as she spotted a small bird perching on the metal rail enclosing the stern. It was black and brown with a dusting of rust, and beady eyes watching her closely as it cocked its head with interest. In the distance, through the fog, she could hear the desolate sounds of ducks and walked over to the opposite side of the stern so as not to disturb the bird.

 

            Leaning against the railing, she stared down at the murky water rippling and lapping up against the painted narrowboat, and she breathed in the dampness of the morning. She stayed outside, listening to the ducks and the birdsong as pale sunlight grew brighter and the fog started to abate until the kettle started whistling as the water boiled. Treading lightly so as not to disturb the peacefulness of the canal, Lena took the kettle off, plunging the boat into silence as it rocked quietly beneath her feet, and set a frying pan on the flickering flames.

 

            With a cup of strong coffee in hand, she sat out on the deck with the dusty bird watching book, the spine cracking with disuse as she flicked through the pages, discovering the bird she’d seen had been a brambling. She spotted a thrush too, flitting past quickly, and the ducks paddled closer as the morning warmed. No swallows though. No reminders of them, except for the gold necklace with the little charm.

 

            She sat outside, drinking in the morning and the hushed quietness of the countryside that she’d come to appreciate during her walk until the smell of sausages sizzling in the pan called her back inside. With a cup of tea cooling on the table before her, half a sausage sandwich in hand, Lena picked up one of the maps left behind and studied the route she was taking, before wolfing down the second half of the sandwich, draining her tea and heading back out to cast off.

 

            Her days were filled with early mornings and bird watching, reading Greek tragedies and myths in the stillness of sighing trees and singing birds while she drank tea or coffee, cooking whatever she had in the cupboards for breakfast, before setting off for a few hours of sailing. She’d park the narrowboat on the banks at lunchtime and make a sandwich and listen to Fleetwood Mac, the noon sun high overhead and the countryside alive around her. Occasionally she passed by another boat or moored near a town, city, village. She’d disembark then, going for a wander on solid ground, her balance off-kilter and her loneliness stamped down as she wandered damp streets, buying groceries.

 

            If she came upon an antique store, Lena always went in. More often than not, she came out with a broken clock. Sometimes she came out with spare parts too. And soon enough, the empty spaces in her boat became littered with gears and springs and wheels. Bent clock arms and swinging pendulums. Splintered wood and tins of varnish. Lengths of wood and saws and pincers, brushes and screwdrivers and oil. Until the inside looked like a workshop, hours spent labouring over the broken clocks in the darkness of night, when it was too cold to sit outside and the log burner filled the interior with its smoky warmth and Lena drank until she felt something akin to warmth _inside_ too.

 

            Sometimes she wrote letters to Sam. Sometimes she called her to leave voicemails. Always, there was no reply. Drowning in solitude, in loneliness and heartache, Lena read her book, listened to her album, and fixed her clocks. Slowly but surely, as slowly as the miles dragged by, the cabin was filled with the steady ticking of clocks. And with it, something unwound inside Lena. The first clock she’d fixed had been that mantel clock from Carlisle, nearly six days after setting out from Lancaster, and as the hands had started to tick, it had felt like a victory. It had felt like hope.

 

            Just the sound of it was familiar, making Lena ache for the dusty back room in her family’s Metropolis antique store, where she tucked herself away with clocks, where her father had worked nearby on restoring furniture, her mother on statues and metal trinkets from all over the globe, and her brother reframed rare paintings brought in. They’d all had their niche, all of them fascinated with old things, whether they were broken or perfect, and Lena had always felt at home there. She’d grown up talking about Ming Dynasty vases around the dinner table, about mahogany Victorian furniture and French remakes, about the Hungarian ceramics and taxidermy heads. She could spot a fake a mile away, knew how to re-cast metal objects well enough to match the original, reupholster Edwardian armchairs with moth-eaten cushions, and which waxes were better for which kinds of wood.

 

            She’d been raised amongst old things, amongst history and art and fixing things, and she’d always thought clocks the most fascinating of it all. Ever since she was little, there had always been something about putting the pieces back together and making them tick that had captivated her, from the very first clock her father had let her help fix when she was six. It had been a German double-faced Estyma desk clock. Ever since then, she’d been fixated on them. Statues were all well and good, as were splintered table legs and painting with yellowing varnish, but they were easy to her. They weren’t a puzzle, not something to solve, to keep her up until the sun rose again trying to put the pieces back together. She’d always known she would go into antiquities, follow in the family footsteps, and she’d always known it would be in clockwork.

 

            At sixteen, she’d enrolled in Metropolis University in a double-major in Fine Arts and Art History, learning about Ancient Greece and Rome, about paintings from around the world, cultural symbols and different art styles. Her parents had both met there a few decades before, and Lex had graduated from there too, and when Lena had graduated at twenty, it had been with no small amount of pride at the fact that she was following in her family’s footsteps to help run their global antiquities business. But she’d always loved clocks, so she’d gone to London afterwards, enrolling at the British Horological Institute and studied watchmaking for a year, before heading back to Metropolis and taking over the clockwork division of her family’s company.

 

            It’s what she’d been doing ever since, right up until she’d had her heart broken and run off to catch the next plane out of the country. She hadn’t even called her mother since. It’d been weeks, and she had no idea where Lena was and no one to help her with the business, and that caused no small amount of guilt to keep her up at night. Her father was gone, and her brother too, and Lena had up and left without a word.

 

            But she couldn’t bring herself to call Lillian; she didn’t know how she’d explain everything. Lillian wouldn’t understand. Her mother was a hard woman. Impatient, haughty, aloof. She wouldn’t understand Lena’s impulsive need to walk half the length of Scotland and buy a boat. Lena didn’t quite understand it herself, only that she _had_ to. To fix things, she had to do it, because what other choice did she have? To give in, go home to her empty life, fixing clocks while a piece of her was broken, knowing that Sam was with someone else. Not while she still loved her; Lena wouldn’t give up that easily.

 

            So she slowly trundled down canals, fixing clocks in the narrowboat, enjoying the scenery and the wildlife, sleeping peacefully with the sound of ticking and the river rocking her to sleep, and even though there was still that yawning emptiness and painful heartache, she felt like everything would be okay. She was getting closer to France every day, slowly but surely, and Sam _had_ to meet her there. How could she not? There, Lena would find her peace, her sense of wholeness.

 

            The days slipped into weeks with ease. The cabin became even more-so crowded with her precious clocks and parts and tools, the weather turned milder and Lena found herself content with her slow pace, but only because she was secretly afraid. The sooner she reached Paris, the sooner she could possibly face disappointment, so she took her time. But all too soon she found herself in the southern region of England, the accents becoming more polished as she neared London and quickly veered away, heading deeper into the countryside with its small hamlets and quiet villages. For all her pain and suffering, she had to admit it was beautiful.

 

            So much greenery and life as the first buds of green started to bloom on trees, lush blades of grass poking up through patches of mud and water as winter was on its way out, sheep and cows crowding fields and small cottages and farmhouses of old stone visible as she gently floated along. At night, she watched the stars and sat on her deck, drinking in the darkness that made the view more stunning, craving the cloudless nights that meant that the rain would lighten. More than once she’d had to cut her day’s travelling short due to rain, unable to bring herself to stand shivering at the tiller, hand frozen around it as she floated down the rivers and canals at a snail’s pace.

 

            March arrived with a burst of flowers budding along the riverbeds. Butter yellow daffodils sprouting in the rich earth, purple pansies and coppery witch hazel, and snowdrops living up to their name as they stood stark white against the greenery. She was far south by then. The wind wasn’t quite so bitter and the sun was starting to shine a little brighter, and Lena was the same as ever. Full of grief and bitterness, and desperate longing.

 

            By the time she reached a small hamlet called Ottinge, the month was nearly over and she was no better off than when she’d started her trip. Her frustration had been growing by the day, a restless feeling taking root inside her and making her irritable. Her mood darkened as a fine downpour dimpled the river she was sailing down and coated everything in a fine layer of water, trickling down her face and puddling on the varnished deck.

 

            The hamlet was outside a small town, with a population of only a few thousand. She was through it within minutes with barely a disturbance, and on to the next small town over, scowling out at the grey water and the endless stretch of green on either side, aspens and oaks stretching out on either side of the bank, when a bridge appeared, growing bigger through the haze of rain as she headed towards it.

 

            It was only a small bridge, barely a narrow footpath across the water by the look of things, with a small arch beneath it. Squinting through the haze of the rain, Lena started to manoeuvre herself so that she was in the middle of the river, fighting the rippling current that tugged her left and lining herself up, knowing that she couldn’t afford to be at an angle. Over the weeks, she’d become somewhat of an expert at driving the narrowboat, lining it up, knowing that the boat tended to stray left when in reverse and that it was better to go slower. It had taken her a while to grow familiar with the right way to coil a rope, to tie a proper knot to keep the boat tightly moored and to fill up the engine oil, but she’d learnt and she was quick to get herself straight, warily eyeing the nearby bridge.

 

            To the left of the riverbank, there was a double-story cottage at least two centuries old and made from grey stone. It was mostly obscured by a fresh crop of green ivy, a thin wisp of grey smoke trailing dully from the chimney and the yellow glow of light filtering out through the windows and sending a chill through Lena as she thought about how warm it must be inside. Instead, she was left with damp hair sticking to her face in curls, the cold in her fingers as she kept a hard grip on the tiller.

 

            She was keeping a steady course towards the bridge, assured of the fact that her boat was both narrow enough and low enough to fit through the narrow archway. As she drifted closer though, fighting for control as a strong wind battered the boat and the current tugged at her, she started feeling uneasy about her estimations. Easing off the accelerator, she put the boat into reverse to slow it down, cursing the fact that there was no break.

 

            “Whoa, whoa, hey! _Hey!_ What’re you _doing?!”_

 

            Lena whipped her head around to look at the blonde that burst out of the ivy-covered building yelling, a yellow flour-covered apron flapping around her thighs as she rushed towards the narrowboat that was slowly, inevitably being tugged along with the river’s current. Cheeks flushing red with embarrassment and annoyance, Lena scowled at the woman through the rain, bristling slightly as anger flared up inside.

 

            “What does it _look_ like I’m doing?” Lena shouted back, trying her hardest to bring the boat to a stop, teeth grinding together as she tried to steer the tiller while in reverse, trying to bring the boat to a halt as the river dragged her along uselessly in its clutches.

 

            Turning back to the looming bridge before her, Lena’s eyes widened with panic as she looked down the length of her narrowboat and the archway that looked even narrower, panic jolting her as she put the boat into reverse again, making it drag slightly towards the left. Softly swearing to herself, she shifted gears and gently eased the throttle, trying to regain the arrow-straight line before the boat smashed into the old grey stone of the arched bridge, before quickly shifting back into reverse again.

 

            She was dimly aware of the blonde woman racing towards the bridge, feet slapping against cobblestones as she stood at the centre of it, leaning over the low wall and waving at Lena. “Stop! You need to slow down!”

 

            “What do you fucking think I’m trying to do?” Lena snapped, panic flickering in the depths of her eyes as the bow moved towards the arch, just a few feet away, although Lena was far back, craning her head to see the bow from the stern.

 

            Yet even as she looked, the pointed prow slipped through the archway, the tapered point making it all the way through before the sides started grating against the old stone. Swearing, Lena tried to reverse, fighting against the flow of the river, even as momentum carried her forward, dragging her even further through the arch. Easing off the throttle, she was dragged forward some more by the current, firmly wedging her in the arch and making her twist slightly to the side, getting stuck. The archway was only a couple of metres wide and Lena made a sound of annoyance at the back of her throat as she watched the blonde disappear for a moment, before coming back.

 

            “You’re not going to make it all the way through the other side,” she called down to Lena, “you should-”

 

            “I don’t need your help,” Lena growled, pulling back on the throttle as she put herself back into reverse and tried in vain to back out from under the bridge, turning the tiller to the boat might correct itself into a straight line.

 

            Breathing heavily, wiping the rain off her cheeks with frozen fingers, Lena muttered to herself, aware of the blonde staring at her, and changed gears, putting the boat back into first and easing on the throttle to give herself some traction to turn. It worked too, slowly using the momentum to swing her around into a straight line. And then further into the arch so that she was jammed so tight on all four sides that she couldn’t move an inch in either direction, no matter how hard she ground the throttle forward, in reverse or in gear.

 

_“Fuck!”_

 

            “Well, that’s not going to come out easily.”

 

            Eyebrows furrowing together as rain dripped into her eyes, Lena glowered up at the blonde leaning over the side of the bridge, forearms leaning against wet stone as she gazed down at Lena with wide eyes. She was still a dozen feet away, blonde hair darkened with rain, and Lena felt her cheeks flood with heat as she uncurled her stiff fingers from around the tiller.

 

            “Can I help you with something?”

 

            Straightening up at the biting tone, the woman blinked, looking mildly taken aback by the hostile tone. “I just- well, I came to warn you.”

 

            “Consider me warned.”

 

         _“And_ offer my help.”

 

            “I don’t need help from an _American._ I came here to get _away_ from you.”

 

            Wiping the plaid shirt sleeve along her brow, the woman shrugged half-heartedly and gave her a grim smile, “well, I’ll leave you to it then. Good luck.”

 

            Closing her eyes, Lena sighed, gently forcing the air out of her lungs as she tried to calm down, unclenching her jaws and letting the tension fade from her hunched shoulders. Feeling slightly ashamed of her snappy attitude, she watched the retreating figure make their way back towards the cosy cottage with guilt creeping up on her. Still, she’d come on this trip to be alone, not to be bothered by bystanders offering pointless comments while she made a fool of herself, and Lena flexed her sore hands as she pressed her mouth into a hard line and readied herself to try and free her boat again. With the engine still idling, Lena drew in a deep breath, exhaled sharply and floored the throttle, the sound of a nearby door slamming shut as the engine whined and the boat remained stuck.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know i've been gone for a few months and if anyone would like an explanation please check this link: https://lostariels.tumblr.com/post/184776155304/lostariels-hey-fellas-were-currently-going-on
> 
> and this one if anyone is interested in it: https://lostariels.tumblr.com/post/185732304674/hey-yall-as-some-of-you-know-i-recently-moved

_ Daffodils, _ _   
_ _ That come before the swallow dares, and take _ _   
_ __ The winds of March with beauty.

_ William Shakespeare,  _ _ T _ _ he Winter's Tale _ _ , Act IV, scene 3, line 118. _

 

-

 

            After an hour of futilely trying to manoeuvre the narrowboat out of the tight arch of the footbridge, Lena slammed her hand angrily on the wet wooden slats of the boat. Shivering in the cold air and damp all the way down to her toes, Lena exhaled forcefully as frustration got the better of her patience. 

 

            Looking around, Lena took in the grey sky and the greenery, the slow-moving river trickling along and the ferns and reeds growing in the muddy shallows of the green water and the black soil along the banks. Dandelions and buttercups pushed through the wet grass, and Lena spotted the telltale white flowers of yarrow, and drooping bluebells and purple bell-shaped foxgloves hidden alongside warm honeysuckles bursting to life amongst the brambles in the pre-spring flush of new life.

 

            Finding herself stuck on the narrow river, bordered in by thickets of trees and plants, the trills of birds flitting between trees seeming too lively for her sour mood, Lena was stumped for a moment. Swimming the few feet to the riverbank sprawling out from the ivy-covered cottage blending in with its surroundings was out of the question, and Lena looked towards the bridge with grim resolution.

 

            With no other choice, she killed the engine and walked towards the black metal ladder climbing up to the roof of the narrowboat. The metal was cold and rusted, staining her hands orange as she took hold of the wet metal. Hauling herself up, hand over hand, Lena carefully clambered onto the roof, hands slick against the rain running off the curved, lacquered wood, the knees of her jeans wet through as she crawled along the length of it, too worried that she’d slip and fall into the river.

 

            Managing to reach the storage compartment tucked away on top, and halfway wedged into the arch, Lena climbed to her feet on top of it and reached for the cold stone of the small bridge. The rain obscured her vision and made her shiver as it snuck down the neck of her coat and ran down her face. Wiping the sleeve of her coat over her face, she swung a leg over the wall of the bridge, moss and weeds pushing up through cracks in the cement.

 

            Feet firmly planted on the cobblestones of the footbridge, she breathed in a lungful of damp air and glanced at the yellow lights flooding out of the grey cottage. There was nowhere else around, and she had no idea where she was, except for a dot on a map, so she splashed through muddy puddles, rounded brambles and ferns and strode across the lawn of the building. The blonde American had been willing to help before; perhaps she would now. All it would take was Lena swallowing her pride.

 

            As she neared the faded black paint of the wooden door overlooking the water, she noticed a name glinting in gold metal letters above the door frame.  _ The Swallow’s Nest.  _ Slowing mid-step, Lena faltered for a moment as she was bombarded with an onslaught of memories. Of a small bird on a tanned wrist. A small golden bird hanging on a delicate chain. Dozens of poems and symbolism swapped in conversation, all about that tiny blue bird.

 

            Shaking her head to clear it of the ghostly echoes of a voice, Lena gazed at the gold door knocker and the doorknob, before her eyes darted to one of the glazed windows, ivy partly obscuring it, and realised it was a café. Taking a deep breath, Lena raised her chin and opened the door, stepping into the comfortably warm cottage.

 

            A bell chimed above the door and she glanced around as she wiped her feet on the bristly mat inside the door. The floor was made up of old flagstones, swept clean and taking the edge off what would’ve otherwise been a stifling heat radiating from the roaring fire in a massive old fireplace off to the right. Round dark wooden tables were strewn throughout the place, with an assortment of stuffed armchairs and rickety mismatched chairs pulled up to them, and two upholstered armchairs arranged in front of the fire with a low coffee table set between them. Dark beams that looked as old as the building ran across the ceiling and the white plastered walls were hung with pencil sketchings of local flowers, woodland creatures and the countryside.

 

            As she turned towards a long wooden counter to the left of the door, the blonde woman stepped out from a doorway, wiping flour-covered hands on the dishtowel tucked into the waistband of her apron. Her blue eyes brightened with familiarity at the sight of Lena, her eyebrows rising slightly in surprise as her lips curled into a small smile.

 

            “Ah, you again.”

 

            Slowly walking towards her, dripping water onto the stone floor, Lena gave her a haughty look. She stopped in front of the counter, an old, battered till sitting on the worn wood, and the blonde leant on her elbows as she stood across from Lena.

 

            “Any luck?”

 

            “Obviously  _ not,”  _ Lena replied in a short tone. She ran a hand through her wet hair and exhaled sharply, pressing her lips together in a flat line. “Do you have a phone I could use?”

 

            Arching an eyebrow, the blonde gave her a look of amusement. “You don’t have a  _ phone?” _

 

            “No.”

 

            “Hm,” she replied, cocking her head to the side as she gave Lena a pointed look. “So … are you asking me for help?”

 

            Cheeks flooding with heat, Lena spluttered as she floundered in her embarrassment. She knew she’d been snippy with the woman earlier, and she regretted it immediately, but Lena didn’t like to be made fun of. With her options slim, she had no other choice but to swallow her pride.

 

            “Yes.”

 

            “You remember that I’m American, right?”

 

            Softly sighing, Lena’s shoulders slumped. “Okay, I’m sorry. I just- I don’t particularly like embarrassing myself in front of other people.”

 

            “I guess you had fair reason to be an asshole,” the blonde shrugged.

 

            Opening and closing her mouth, Lena blinked in surprise as she stared at the blonde, who was digging into a pocket. Pulling out a phone, the woman held it out with a slight smile curling her mouth. At the look on Lena’s face, the woman froze, her brow creasing with concern.

 

            “Is something wrong?”

 

            Making a quiet choked sound, Lena gave her an incredulous look. “No, I just- I don’t think anyone’s ever called me an asshole before.”

 

            Lips parting in surprise, the blonde’s eyes widened slightly and her cheeks turned red. “Oh. Oh my god, sorry, that sort of … slipped out. I didn’t mean-“

 

            Holding a hand up, Lena stopped her in her tracks and reached out to pluck the phone from her hand. “I think I deserved it,” she said, a wary look on her face as she eyed the woman before she held the phone up slightly. “Thank you for this. I’ll just be a moment.”

 

            The place was empty and the grey sky outside and the sheets of rain battering against the windows spoke of the incoming dusk, and Lena realised just how late it was getting. If help came, it wouldn’t be today.

 

            “I’m just closing up, but you’re more than welcome to sit by the fire for a bit. Do you drink tea or coffee?”

 

            Hesitating, Lena bit her bottom lip as she debated whether or not to accept even more kindness from this stranger. Lena knew she was a proud woman, and that came from the fact that  _ she  _ was the fixer. She always fixed everything by herself. Clocks, watches, lamps and broken hinges. But she was dripping wet, and the invitation to stay inside in the warmth and drink something hot was too good to refuse.

 

            “Um, tea, please.”

 

            Giving her a warm smile that crinkled her eyes, the blonde nodded. “Sure. Take a seat, I’ll bring it over.”

 

            “Thank you,” Lena called after her as the blonde disappeared into the back room, which Lena assumed was the kitchen.

 

            Weaving her way through tables and around chairs, Lena made for the worn leather sofa and shrugged out of her coat, before sitting down by the fire. Woodsmoke and warmth barreled into her as logs cracked and the fire sent sparks up the chimney, and Lena shivered as she dried.

 

            Making a quick phone call to emergency services, she was in a sour mood again when the woman reappeared with a tray. Running a hand through her damp hair, Lena tiredly slumped against the leather as a teapot, cup and saucer, milk and sugar cubes were all set down in front of her. To her surprise, a blueberry scone was set down too, steaming slightly next to the butter, and Lena quickly glanced up at the blonde who was tucking the tray under her arms.

 

            “I thought you could use something to eat,” she sheepishly smiled, “it’s blueberry and lemon. I made it myself this morning.”

 

            “Thank you,” Lena replied, her voice full of genuine gratitude as she held the phone out.

 

            “Any luck?”

 

            Sighing, Lena shook her head as she leant forward, reaching for the teapot. “Emergency services can’t help.”

 

            Quietly chuckling, the blonde tucked her phone into the pocket of her apron. “I’ll say. Last year there was an accident near Ottinge - someone drove their car into the river - and it took them nearly eight months to fish it out. The river’s too narrow to get a big enough boat with a crane on it, and there aren’t many roads around here that lead to this place, let alone to the riverbank.”

 

            “Oh.”

 

            Feeling defeated, Lena picked up the scone and took a bite, crumbs cascading onto the plate as the taste of lemon burst on her tongue. It was surprisingly good, but it didn’t do much to cheer her up as she realised that her boat was stuck indefinitely. And after walking half the length of Scotland, Lena wasn’t in a hurry for another walk or another chest infection. Not to mention her horde of precious clocks.

 

            “Hey, you going to be okay?”

 

            Shrugging, Lena set her plate back down. “I suppose I don’t really have any other choice.”

 

            “Well if you keep up with that stubbornness I saw today, you might actually get yourself out,” the blonde joked, trying to cheer her up. 

 

            As she stirred milk into her tea, Lena gave her a dour look, and the young woman hovered for a moment before realising that she was intruding. Leaving Lena to her tea and scone, the woman disappeared back into the kitchen. The sounds of things banging around filled the quiet room.

 

            Draining her tea and then pouring herself another, Lena eyed the fine bone china cup and saucer. They were thin and white, edged in gold gilt and patterned with blue swallows. Lena was struck again by the name of the place. It seemed like a strong coincidence or some stroke of fate. Of  _ course _ she’d end up stuck outside a place named after the bird she associated with the woman who broke her heart.

 

            She was still brooding over it and the ragged hole in her chest when the blonde reappeared. Wiping down tables with a cloth and sweeping the stone floors clean, she was quiet as Lena snuck peeks at her. It struck her that the woman was pretty. She had a kind face; eyes bluer than the sky, lips that curled up at the corners, blonde hair held back in a low bun with tendrils snaking around her face and down her neck and a pair of glasses tucked in the pocket of her apron. 

 

            As she was observing her, the woman looked up and met her eyes with a smile. Leaning the broom against a table, she brushed a few stray curls out of her face.

 

            “All finished?”

 

            Nodding, Lena reached into the pocket of her coat and pulled out a twenty-pound note, curling it into her palm as she pushed an arm through one sleeve and then the other. As the woman came to stack the assortment of plates, jugs, cups and teapot, Lena set the note down on the table.

 

            “Oh, no, no, it’s on the house,” the woman said, smiling at Lena as she straightened up with her hands full.

 

            “I couldn’t,” Lena protested, snatching up the money and climbing to her feet.

 

            Softly laughing, the woman turned to the kitchen, while Lena trailed after her. “I insist. My treat.”

 

            Quick on her feet, she reached the counter before Lena and set down the dirty plates, before turning to face Lena. As she drifted closer to the blonde, Lena crossed her arms over her chest and raised her chin, her green eyes shining slightly with determination. After her rudeness, Lena was adamant that she have the courtesy to at least pay for the woman’s kindness, with a hefty tip for her tea too.

 

            “Can I ask you something?” Lena quietly asked.

 

            Starkly aware of the emptiness of the café and the lateness of the day, Lena felt uncharacteristically awkward in the presence of the stranger. But then she smiled and Lena felt a little more sure of herself as the woman’s eyes crinkled at the corners.

 

            “Sure.”

 

            “The name …”

 

            “The Swallow’s Nest?”

 

            Inclining her head, Lena frowned slightly in consternation. “Why?”

 

            “If you’re still around in a few weeks, you’ll find out.”

 

            With a smile, the woman fished her glasses out of her pocket and slipped them on. Her smile brightened a fraction. Gently clearing her throat, Lena stepped closer, too close, with the crumpled up note in hand, and as the blonde picked up the plates and teapot again, Lena moved closer still and tucked the note into the pocket of the messy yellow apron.

 

            Meeting the wide blue eyes with an unreadable expression on her face, Lena cocked her head to the side. She was closer to the woman than she’d been to anyone in a long time, and her voice was low when she replied. “Keep the change.”

 

            Turning around, she walked towards the black wooden door and twisted the knob, a gust of cold wind buffeting her as damp air crept inside. Looking back over her shoulder at the woman who was still standing there, giving her a curious look, Lena hesitated for a moment, wind ruffling her hair as she stood in the doorway.

            

            “Thank you,” Lena murmured, “for your help.”

 

            Stepping out into the cold air, Lena turned on the paving stones set in front of the door, stopping the stoop from turning into a quagmire of mud and soggy grass, and she caught a glimpse of the woman once more. Still standing where Lena had left her, she had a troubled look on her face as she watched the brunette leave, but as Lena met her eyes once more, she blinked and her expression smoothed out into one of polite friendliness.

 

            “Have a good night,” she tentatively called out.

 

            Nodding, Lena shut the door behind herself and buried her hands into her pockets. In one of them, she felt the cold metal of the keys to  _ Tess _ and in the other, the soft leather and rectangular face of the broken wristwatch. Hovering on the doorstep, she closed her eyes and breathed in deeply.

 

            The air was damp, the ground wet and as Lena’s eyes fluttered open again, she took in the darkening blue sky as dusk approached. Trampling the damp grass underfoot, Lena followed the path to the footbridge and made the reverse trip over the edge of the cobblestoned low wall, perching precariously on the slick roof of the narrowboat. Inching her way back towards the stern, she nimbly climbed down the rickety metal ladder, wiped her rusty hands on her coat, and stepped into the cabin of the boat. 

 

            Flipping the light switch, Lena shed her damp coat and flung it onto the booth seat, before continuing down the narrow length of the ship and into the small bedroom. Rummaging through her measly collection of clothes, she grabbed a t-shirt, a pair of sweatpants and a khaki fleece sweatshirt that zipped up at the collar.

 

            The water in the shower sputtered out in irregular bursts of cold water for a few minutes, before it heated up and fell in a steady stream from the old showerhead. After standing outside in the rain for hours, and sitting in her damp clothes, the water was mercifully hot on Lena’s cold skin, and she lingered for a while, before stepping out and dressing in her warm clothes.

 

            Hunger gnawed at her stomach and she lit the tin kettle on the stove and rummaged through the cupboards. It had been a few days since she’d been grocery shopping, which left her with little more than a tin of beans, a few slices of mouldy bread, a packet of biscuits and a Pot Noodle. Grabbing her chipped mug, Lena set a teabag in it and pulled the foil lid off of the plastic cup of noodles. 

 

            Five minutes later, she was standing in the doorway of the boat, staring out at the darkness of night and scooping forkfuls of instant noodles into her mouth as she stared at the lights flooding from the top floor of the cottage on the banks of the river. They were like a beacon in the darkness, and Lena’s thoughts strayed to the blonde woman for a moment, before she turned her attention to the night. 

 

            It was peacefully quiet. The river was a hushed trickle, the stars were bright and coldly distant between wisps of clouds drifting slowly overhead - the threat of rain seemed to have passed - and the only sound that disturbed the night was the soft hoot of an owl hidden somewhere in the trees. As far as places to be trapped went, the picturesque English countryside with a quaint cottage on the riverbank wasn’t a bad one.

 

            Lena stayed up a while longer after she’d finished her tea and noodles, her breath pluming before her as she stared out at the shimmering silver moonlight reflected off the surface of the rippling water. She leaned against the railing and thought about Sam. 

 

            She’d been trying hard to push thoughts of the woman she loved aside, but it was nigh on impossible. To forget about Sam was to deny the constant ache in her heart, to pretend that she was okay, that she wasn’t numb inside. It had been weeks since Lena had last tried to call her though, and it did little to help. Instead of feeling like she was making progress with healing her broken heart, Lena felt her hope die a little like she was giving up on a chance of her and Sam being together by ignoring her. But Sam wouldn’t answer even if she  _ did  _ call. It was a double-edged sword, and no matter which way she looked at it, it felt like a loss. It felt like heartbreak all over again.

 

            When her mood had darkened and the hour had grown late enough to fill her bones with weary resignation, Lena made her way back inside, where she stoked the wood stove and lit a match to light the kindling, bathing the amber alder in an even richer glow of light. Shutting the front grille, she let the fire spread its warmth through the confines of the boat and made her way to the bedroom in the galley, shedding her leather walking boots and climbing in between the sheets.

 

            The sound of the fire crackling was obscured by the ticking of dozens of clocks, and Lena lay awake for a long time, listening to it. The nightstands were crowded with them, filling her room with the sound, as well as the kitchen table and cupboards the next room over. Ordinarily, it helped lull her to sleep after an hour of tossing and turning and overthinking, but without the gentle swaying of the rivers and canals rocking her to sleep, sleep was hard to come by. Lena had grown accustomed to it by now, and benign wedged tightly between the silty riverbed and the rough stone arch of the bridge kept her still as the river lapped at the wooden hull.


	5. Chapter 5

_             “Is that a tattoo?” _

 

_             “Yeah, it’s a swallow. I got it after travelling around Europe.” _

 

_             She watched as a tanned hand pulled the sleeve up to expose the small bird tattooed on the wrist in indigo ink. Looking up, Lena took in the bright smile and felt her heart ache just a little. _

 

_             “Did it hurt?” _

 

_             A scoff made her lips curl in a smile as they sat on the springy grass, Lena sitting with her knees drawn up to her chest, while Sam lay sprawled out, shading her eyes with a hand as she watched her daughter playing at the edge of the lake. _

 

_             “Of course it didn’t. I’m going to get another one when I do the next trip. Sailors used to get two. They said it was lucky.” _

 

-

 

            “Morning, sailor,” the blonde woman greeted her with a bright smile, while Lena’s brow creased slightly as she stepped up to the till the next day. 

 

            “Hi.”

 

            Her voice was weary. It had been a long night, full of painful memories and an ache in her chest that made her breaths shudder whenever she was reminded of Sam. There were too many memories on that river, in front of that cottage. More than Lena had ever dreamed of seeing. The name, the swallows on the cups, even the reason why she was there in the first place. It made her miss her more. It made her want to cry for her heartbreak, but Lena hadn’t cried in years. She wasn’t about to start now.

 

            “Late night?” the woman commented as she glanced up from the freshly baked scones she was artfully arranging on a cake stand. 

 

            As Lena focused her attention on the blonde, the door at the back of the cottage opened with a gust of cold air as someone entered. The woman looked up and her lips curled into a smile as her blue eyes lit up with familiarity. 

 

            “Bloody hell, have you seen the boat out front? Which blind idiot was sailing  _ that? _ ” a woman with dark hair and a northern accent tempered from living in the south said as she breezed behind the blonde woman, tying a black apron around her waist.

 

            Trying to turn a choked laugh into a cough, the blonde woman pressed her lips together and gave Lena an apologetic look, before turning to the new arrival. Clearly, she was an employee. A pretty one at that, Lena noticed as she tried no to bristle at the woman’s comment. Giving her a pointed look, the blonde faced the other woman.

 

_             “Imra,” _ she quietly said, the name holding a warning that didn’t go unnoticed by the woman in question as she finished knotting her apron and looked up with confused bluish eyes.

 

            “What?”

 

            “I’m with a customer.”

 

            Lena made a small sound of amusement at the back of her throat as she looked at Imra. Her lips twitched slightly, and it couldn’t be called a smile, but there was a certain air of pleasure that briefly softened Lena’s blank expression.

 

            “The blind idiot, as it were.”

 

            Imra’s cheeks flushed red and her mouth fell open as she stumbled on her apology, although she couldn’t help but laugh at the same time, while the blonde woman closed her eyes and exhaled softly. When the awkwardness of the moment grew too uncomfortable, Imra apologised again and quickly ducked back past Kara and out to the crowded tables, her friendly voice drifting back towards the duo standing on either side of the counter as she cleared tables and spoke to the locals.

 

            “Well … that’s Imra. She’s a bit … candid.”

 

            “Asshole. Idiot. Isn’t everyone here so …  _ charming _ ,” Lena curtly replied.

 

            They stood in silence again for a few moments, glancing at each other as they waited for the other to say something. Lena didn’t want to be too pushy about the information she wanted, but it seemed like the blonde had forgotten and was too embarrassed to know what to say next. 

 

            “Um … so I actually don’t know your name,” the woman hedged after a moment.

 

            Pausing, Lena eyed her for a moment, taking in the smudges of flour on her apron, the deep red stain splattering the rolled-up sleeves of her denim shirt and the smell of oranges and coffee that clung to her. Lena couldn’t help but wonder what she was baking in the kitchen, assuming from their two brief interactions that this woman was the chef of the small café - a well-liked one too, from the packed room full of loud conversation. And she couldn’t help but be nice to the woman; there was something about her that just radiated kindness. 

 

            “Lena.”

 

            It was the first time she’d heard her own name spoken in weeks and it was said with apprehension as she gave the blonde woman a wary look. But the other woman’s face split into a bright smile as she absentmindedly placed the last scone on top of a precariously balanced pile and covered the cake stand with a sparkling glass lid. Wiping a few stray crumbs off the counter, she set the baking tray down with the red checkered tea towel and extended a hand across the wooden top. 

 

            “My name’s Kara.”

 

            Shaking her hand, Lena felt a tug in her stomach at the warmth of the smooth skin. It had been a while since she’d so much as touched another person in the simplest way, like a handshake, and it was like a yawning pit opened up inside her. She suddenly found herself craving even the smallest bit of intimacy, and as a sharp spike of pain rammed itself into her heart, she quickly tugged her hand back. At the gentle crease of Kara’s forehead at the abrupt withdrawal of her hand, Lena looked down at the worn wood, her eyes following the grain, and rubbed the back of her neck.

 

            “So I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of the nearest store.”

 

            “For groceries?”

 

            Nodding, Lena glanced up to meet her blue eyes, finding Kara giving her an intense look as she tilted her head to the side slightly. Bewilderment smoothing out into polite friendliness, Kara gave her a slight smile.

 

            “Um, yeah, sure. Just hang on a second; I’ve got some bread in the oven that needs to come out.”

 

            Nodding again, Lena watched as she bustled off to the kitchen, baking tray in hand and the tea towel safely tucked in the pocket of her apron, and she turned around to take in the cafe. There were things she hadn’t had time to take stock of the day before, and she found herself drawn to the nearest cabinet, hewn from walnut wood and at least half a decade old, looking fashionably vintage in the quaint interior of the old cottage, and glanced at the items neatly arranged. There were jars of homemade berry jams and marmalade, pots of honey, beeswax candles and soap, and on a shelf on the other side of the door overlooking the river, there were bottles of apple cider and dandelion wine and cherry wine that had homemade labels slapped on too. 

 

            Glancing over her shoulder, Lena took in the metal stand with the wicker baskets holding freshly baked loaves of bread, round rolls sprinkled with poppy seeds, and crescent moon croissants. Cartons of eggs were carefully stacked on top of the display cabinet adjoining the counter, while the cabinet held a variety of cakes, pies, tarts and muffins. Lena turned her attention back to the assortment of jams while she waited for Kara to return.

 

            She could hear the clatter of trays in the kitchen over the hum of conversation, and the smell of freshly baked bread wafted out of the open doorway. A few minutes later, footsteps stopped at her side and she could see the blonde halo of Kara’s hair out of the corner of her eye. Turning her attention away from the jam, Lena turned to meet her gaze.

 

            “So my friend in town owns a fruit and veg store. It’s all fresh and organic, and better than the local Tesco; I get all of my produce off him too. If you tell him I sent you, he’ll lower the price a bit for you,” Kara said as she held out a scrap of paper with a name and a crudely drawn map. 

 

            Reaching out for it, Lena studied the vague lines. 

 

            “If you follow the path from the footbridge, it’ll take you straight into town. The track’s a bit uneven, and a bit muddy, so watch your step,” Kara added with a smile.

 

            “Thanks,” Lena murmured, raising the piece of paper slightly.

 

            “No problem.”

 

            Lena left shortly after that, with Kara called back to the kitchen for an order of scrambled eggs, while Imra ran cups of coffee, pots of tea, and dirty dishes back and forth. On the sloped lawn before the river, Lena took a sharp right and walked up to the hard-packed earth path leading from the end of the cobblestone bridge and disappearing a way down the tree-lined track. 

 

            It was a brisk morning. The air was invigorating as she tramped earth, the branches of chestnuts, beeches and hornbeams shading the way and dappling the earthen ground green and yellow as sunlight filtered down through the canopy. Grey squirrels, red-breasted robins clinging to the colder weather of early spring, and the peaceful twittering of a great tit, its yellow underbelly visible as a quick flash through the greenery. Wild garlic with white star-like flowers grew along the path, with dandelions and wood-sorrel in shades of pink and yellow, and she breathed in the damp air, the freshness of the greenery leaching the tension from her body.

 

            It wasn’t a long walk into town, but Lena’s cheeks were pink from the cold and her lungs were burning slightly when she reached the outskirts, red-bricked Victorian buildings with bay windows and grey slate, and Tudor houses gable roofs, cladding and white plastered walls. Hedges and trees were obscured by a lingering haze of mist and Lena moved through the quiet town, glancing around as she tried to make sense of Kara’s map. Cars trundled past and laundry was strung out and flapping in the mild breeze in backyards, visible over the walls as Lena walked past. Quiet barks were audible from inside houses, children laughed as they were walked to school by their parents, and shops were setting up as she reached the centre of the town. It was tiny, the main street holding a small collection of necessary stores and businesses, and it wasn’t hard for Lena to find the grocery store.

 

            The metal security shutter had been rolled up, the bi-fold doors opened to the street, and crates of fresh produce were set out in orderly rows on trestle tables. As she neared the store, the smell of the produce washed over her and she paused at a crate of peaches. A cheerful shout came from inside the store and Lena looked up as a bearded man set down a plastic crate of apples on the wooden floors inside, pushing the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt further up his arm as he smiled at Lena.

 

            “Morning,” he said, his voice distinctly English as he moved towards her, “can I help you with something?”

 

            “I, uh, yeah, I’m just having a look.”

 

            “Need a basket?”

 

            She nodded, and he fetched one for her, holding it out with a smile. He had dark hair and a beard shadowed the lower half of his face, his skin deeply tanned, and his smile charming. From Kara’s note, Lena knew his name was Jack. She took the basket with a muttered thank you and Jack told her to call him if she needed a hand. 

 

            Basket in tow, Lena grabbed a paper bag and started picking mushrooms from the nearest crate. The basket slowly filled as she made her way through the variety of food, and eventually made her way to the counter. Jack was stacking empty crates in the back room, the door open to reveal shelves full of fruit and vegetables. He poked his head out and saw her standing there and quickly stepped back into the shopfront. One by one, he opened the bags and weighed them on a silver scale, punching a price in on the old till, before moving onto the next bag. Lena didn’t mention Kara.

 

            With all of the little bags compiled into a giant brown paper bag, Lena paid, thanked him and left, before making her way to Tesco to buy bread, eggs, milk and tea. She quickly made her way back to the cottage and her narrowboat, following the winding shadowed path through the forest of trees, until the quiet trickle of running water reached her ears and the distant sound of cars. There was a parking lot a short walk from the cafe for customers, attached to the nearest road wide enough to drive a car down. Still nowhere near close enough to the river to be of any use to Lena and her current predicament.

 

            Brooding over the problem of her stuck boat, Lena carried her groceries the rest of the way, until she reached the footbridge. As she neared the spot where she had to climb over the wall to access the roof of the narrowboat, she noticed a jar sitting on the moss-covered bricks. Inching closer, Lena set her shopping down on the wall and picked up the jar of strawberry jam with a dark look on her face as her eyebrows furrowed together. Picking up the jar, she scrutinised the label, taking in the swallow printed on it, and angrily shoved the jar in her pocket as her eyes took in the piece of paper trapped beneath a small rock. Neat handwriting flowed across the page.

 

_ A small apology from the real asshole and idiot. _

 

            Letting out a derisive snort, Lena crumpled the paper up into a ball and shoved it in the other coat pocket, before scrambling over the wall and picking her bags up. Carefully shuffling her way across the roof of the boat, she cast the cottage a few side glances, before she reached the ladder. It was awkward, scuttling down the rungs with a bag in her arms, before scrambling back up for the next.

 

            Hastily shoving all of the groceries where they belonged, Lena stormed back out and up the ladder, her palms painted orange with rust, and made her way back towards the cottage to return the jam. She couldn’t say why she was annoyed by Kara giving her the jam, only that it bothered her, and she was irritable enough as it was with the painful reminders and being trapped in front of a place that brought them to the surface didn’t help. And it wasn’t so much that Kara had given her jam, it was the thought of owing someone something.

 

            Quickly crossing the lawn, Lena wiped her feet on the bristly mat on the paved doorstep and opened the door, ducking inside and glancing around until she found a familiar blonde head. At the sound of the door opening, Kara’s head turned expectantly and her face creased with a smile as she moved towards her.

 

            “Lena! Hi, how did you like the town? Oh! Did you try the jam?” Kara brightly greeted her, carrying an armful of plates from the nearest table, her blue eyes sparkling with warmth and making Lena’s irritation fizzle out.

 

            Curling her hand around the jam jar hidden safely in her pocket, with the intention of being returned to the beaming blonde, Lena opened and closed her mouth, feeling defeated somehow.

 

            “I- yeah, I did. It was … amazing.”

 

            “You liked it?” Kara asked, perking up slightly.

 

            “Yeah, it’s great,” Lena quietly replied, her expression softening as she withdrew her hand from her pocket, “it was very … thoughtful. Thank you. I’m not sure I was deserving of it.”

 

            Letting out a light laugh, Kara set the dirty plates down on the nearest table and wiped her hands on a tea towel shoved into the straps of the apron tied around her waist. “I mean, I did call you an asshole.”

 

            Lips twitching at the corners, Lena shrugged half-heartedly. “It was warranted.”

            

            “What can I do you for this time? Tea?”

 

            Scrambling for something, anything, Lena simply nodded, and Kara gestured to a small round table overlooking the river and told her she’d bring it over. Sitting down on a chair, she glanced out of the window, ivy growing outside fringing on the edges, and watched the ducks waddling down by the reeds in the shade of the trailing branches of a willow tree. 

 

            The breakfast rush was still in swing, with most tables occupied by regulars and tourists alike, and Lena was left to her own thoughts as the sound of conversation faded into the background. It had been a long time since she’d sat amongst other people, partaking in something as normal as sitting in a cafe or extended conversation, and she felt slightly uneasy as she glanced around. It was like her thoughts only had one shape; the shape of Sam. Nothing else fit there, and she didn’t know how to just  _ be _ , sitting there in the cafe. Feeling out of sorts, Lena had never felt more alone. 

 

            She was considering leaving before the tea came, sneaking out after a moment of deliberation, but right when she decided to leave, Kara appeared, carrying a tray with a steaming teapot on it, and Lena settled back down on her chair and watched as the blonde neared her. Sitting silently as Kara carefully unloaded everything, Lena gave her a ghost of a smile and softly thanked her, before reaching out for the teapot. 

 

            Kara stood there as Lena poured a stream of amber tea into the swallow decorated fine bone teacup and stirred in a sugar cube and a smidge of milk before Lena glanced up with a questioning look in her sad green eyes.

 

            “Can I ask you something?” Kara haltingly asked, head cocked to the side as she surveyed the dark-haired woman sitting before her.

 

            Shrugging noncommittally, Lena raised the tea to her lips and took a scalding sip.

 

            “What brought you here?”

 

            “My boat got stuck.”

 

            Letting out a shaky laugh, Kara’s forehead wrinkled slightly as she gave Lena a puzzled smile. “I know, but … no one ever comes down the river here in anything bigger than a rowing boat. And only then, it’s locals renting them off me. I just- I guess I’m just curious as to  _ why _ you’re living on a boat in the south-east of England. It’s … unusual.”

 

            “I didn’t want to stay where I was living anymore,” Lena simply replied.

 

            “America?”

 

            At Lena’s nod, Kara narrowed her eyes slightly. She wasn’t wearing her glasses, but Lena could see them tucked into the pocket of her apron. 

 

            “You’re not American though, are you?” Kara suspiciously asked.

 

            “No.”

 

            As if sensing that Lena wasn’t really interested in conversation, Kara made herself scarce, and Lena was content to drink cup after cup of tea from the swallow patterned teapot until only the dregs were left. While she drank, she watched Kara too. Lena watched her charm the customers, bringing plates piled high with full breakfasts, perfectly poached eggs, pancakes topped with berries, the smell of it making her stomach quietly growl as a reminder that she’d missed breakfast that morning, with nothing left in the cupboards. She watched the other woman too - Imra. How Kara laughed so effortlessly with her, how they manoeuvred around each other in the narrow spaces between tables and chairs with practised ease, and how seamlessly they performed their jobs, passing off plates to each other, clearing tables while the other wiped them with a cloth. 

 

            It struck Lena that she didn’t know anyone like that anymore. And if she was being honest with herself, Lena had never felt so comfortable around Sam. It had never been effortless and familiar in the way that they’d done something that way a thousand times before. They’d never really been anything. Drawing in a shuddering breath as her face twisted with pain, Lena quickly pushed her chair back, the legs grating on the stone floor, and she rose fluidly to her feet. 

 

            Walking up to the counter, Lena rummaged through her pocket for a crumpled note and waited for either of the women to serve her. She saw Imra heading her way, and Kara quickly intercepted with a smile, and found herself face to face with the blonde again, those blue eyes making Lena feel even bleaker as she realised she’d never have that kind of happiness that emanated so effortlessly from Kara. Not if she didn’t have Sam.

 

            “Anything I can get for you?”

 

            “Just the tea, thank you,” Lena murmured, holding out the crease five-pound note.

 

            Waving a hand dismissively, Kara leant against the countertop and folded her arms over her chest as she smiled. “On the house.”

            

            “I insist.”

 

            “You overpaid yesterday,” Kara countered.

 

            Gritting her teeth for a moment, the muscles in her jaw flexing, Lena let out a faint sigh, not wanting to seem rude. “It was a tip for the kindness.”

 

            Quietly laughing, Kara’s eyes danced with amusement as she arched a slender eyebrow. “Kindness is  _ free.” _

 

            “Why does it matter? Can’t you just take the money? You can’t just … give things  _ away. _ How else are you supposed to make money?” Lena brusquely demanded.

            

            Eyes widening slightly, Kara straightened up and splayed her hands on the scarred wood. “I do quite well here, you know. It’s actually a part of the National Trust, and a popular tourist attraction. I can give away a cup of  _ tea _ . Especially to those who look like they need it.”

 

            Meeting her gaze, Lena bit back a sharp retort. “I get that you’re trying to be nice, and I know I’ve been in a shitty mood with you and that’s not your fault, but I don’t need your pity.”

 

            “I’m not pitying you. It’s just tea.”

 

            “Well if you won’t let me pay for the tea then I’ll … I’ll have a loaf of bread.”

 

            “You want … bread?”

 

            Jerking her chin forward in a stubborn gesture, Lena gave her a curt nod. Kara’s mouth curled up into a faint smile as she tried to bite it back, and she took the crumpled note and smoothed it out. “Any preference? White, wholemeal, multigrain? Gluten-free?”

 

            “Multigrain.”

 

            “That’s three-pound change.”

 

            Lena thanked her as she held her hand out for the change, the coins clinking as Kara set them down in her palm, her fingertips warm as they brushed against her skin. Curling her fingers around the money, Lena shoved it into her pocket and swallowed the lump in her throat as Kara turned and walked off to fetch a loaf of bread. Instead of getting one of the packaged ones on display for sale, she brought a fresh one from the kitchen - one of the ones she’d taken out of the oven when Lena had come in earlier that morning - and she handed it to Lena in a brown paper bag.

 

            Thanking her again, Lena turned and left, stalking towards the wall and climbing back onto her boat, making the slippery trip across the dew-covered roof and stepped into the cosy warmth of the boat. She shoved the loaf of bread in alongside the one she’d picked up at Tesco, and wedged the jar of strawberry jam in alongside them. 

 

            Boiling the kettle and consequently growing annoyed when it let out an ear-piercing whistle as it came to a boil, Lena made herself a strong cup of black coffee in her chipped green enamel mug, grabbed the battered book on English plantlife, a packet of custard cream biscuits, and parked herself out on the deck to bask in the weak sunlight and try and forget about Sam  _ and _ Kara. She found herself failing spectacularly at both.


	6. Chapter 6

_             “I have something to tell you,” Lex started as they lingered in the sitting room while the chef finished preparing their dinner. _

 

_             It was just the three of them. Lena, Lex and Lillian. Each of them nursed a drink, even though Lena had only turned eighteen a short while ago, and Lex was leaning against the mantelpiece as he swirled scotch around in his glass with a thoughtful look on his face.  _

 

_             “I’m going to be a father,” he eventually stated, looking up to meet the shocked looks on his mother and sister’s faces. _

 

_             Lillian was silent for a moment, before she let out a quiet laugh, a smile curling her mouth even as she narrowed her eyes slightly. “You  _ are  _ joking, aren’t you?” _

 

_             “No.” _

 

_             Lena’s eyebrows flew up, even as she busied herself with her glass of white wine, trying to avoid the ensuing argument that was surely going to unfold in a matter of moments. Biting back a sigh, she relaxed against the soft leather of the nineteenth-century Italian armchair and watched as light refracted through the old Imperial Russian crystal wine glass. She was most likely the youngest thing inside the sprawling mansion of antique vases, ancient statues, classical paintings from every era, in a variety of techniques, old wood and furniture polish and a horde of shimmering jewels and finely crafted metalwork. It was rare that something new turned up and the thought of a new person was exciting. She hadn’t even known her brother was dating anyone. _

 

_             “Well is it serious?” _

 

_             Running a hand over the stubble covering his jaw, Lex’s expression turned sheepish. “Well … no. But we’ve decided to share the responsibility. I wouldn’t want to leave her with a cheque and all the work, and I wouldn’t want to force her to … take care of things. So, there you have it.” _

 

_             Sighing, Lillian climbed to her feet, a faint look of amusement on her face as she eyed her son and then glanced to her daughter before her eyes slid back to him. “You know, you’re so much like your father at times.” _

 

_             “In fact, I’ve invited her here so you can meet her.” _

 

_             “What, now?” Lillian spluttered. _

 

_             Nodding, Lex glanced down at the face of vintage Heuer Carrera watch strapped to his wrist, before setting his glass down on the mantelpiece and crossing the Persian carpet as he made towards the open double doors of the sitting room. Lena and Lillian glanced at each other wordlessly, their mouths tugging down at the corners as their eyebrows rose and they shrugged and shook their heads in a silent conversation. Neither of them had known.  _

 

_             There was a quiet knock a few minutes later, followed by Lex quickly answering the door and ushering someone inside with brusque politeness before he strode ahead and appeared in the doorway with a woman half-hidden behind him. She was tall, and Lena was struck by how pretty she was as her brother stepped aside to reveal her fully. Hands nervously clutched a bag in front of her stomach, which was hidden beneath her coat, and Lena noticed her mother’s shrewd glance as she tried to spot a bump. _

 

_             “This is Samantha,” Lex said as he strode into the room and reclaimed his glass of scotch, while Sam hesitantly walked in, a shy smile curling her mouth. Her brown eyes met Lena’s and she felt her stomach lurch slightly and her cheeks flood with warmth. Quickly burying her face in her glass of wine, Lena politely nodded as Lex told Sam her name, before introducing her to Lillian. _

 

_             “Well … Samantha, do you like chicken?” _

 

-

 

            The next morning, after a breakfast of some of Kara’s homemade jam on toast, Lena drained her coffee, pulled on her parka and went for a walk. It was still early, the sky deep indigo as steel blue wisps of clouds drifted overhead and obscured the smattering of stars still visible as dawn approached. A veil of mist hid the dark, shimmering river from sight and Lena’s breath plumed before her as she clambered over the brick wall of the bridge and set off in the early morning. 

 

            Although she had been alone for weeks, there was a kind of solitude in walking by herself when the world was still asleep. Crossing the lawn in front of the old stone cottage, the windows dark and no sounds coming from the building, Lena followed the river, ambling alongside the ribbon of water banked with reeds and tall trees standing like sentinels in the mud and grassy slopes. The only sounds were the rustling of woodland creatures scurrying to bed after a night of creeping through roots and plants or scrambling out of their dens at the first hint of daylight. A rabbit bounced across her path and startled her as she passed by a dark shed hidden in a clearing set a short ways back from the river, a swathe of grass turned to slippery mud, creating a path to the water. She wondered if it belonged to Kara.

 

            As she walked, Lena breathed in the frigid air and let the cold numb her cheeks, her mind turning to her clocks and where she could find more supplies, then to the plants that she stopped to identify in the grey, early morning light. There were creeping thistles, already starting to sprout flower buds, stinging nettles that made her hiss with pain as she accidentally pricked herself and yellow pilewort flowers springing to life underfoot. 

 

            She walked on and on until the trees thinned and a stretch of meadows and patchwork fields were visible on either side of the river. A horse was picketed nearby, head bowed as it grazed, and sheep and cows dotted the fields on the gentle slopes of rolling hills. Everything was covered in a fine layer of dew, and it smelled like spring. Lena felt some of the heaviness in her chest abate slightly as she drew in a deep breath, a breeze ruffling her hair as the sounds of birds tweeting made her feel light. 

 

            The sun had fully risen by the time she neared the cottage again, the water sparkling a muddy green and blue as it reflected the sky and the branches of the trees that reached towards each other from opposite banks. Grey clouds had turned white and puffy, lazily floating across the pale blue sky, and Lena breathed in the smell of fresh bread being baked, catching sight of curtains fluttering through an open window in the gentle breeze. 

 

            A clucking sound disturbed her and Lena started slightly as she looked down and found a fat brown chicken strutting across the lawn, looking startlingly out of place. Frowning, she walked towards it and stopped a few feet away, watching it peck at the soil, gouging holes in the grass, before she glanced towards the cottage and recalled the fresh eggs for sale inside. It occurred to her that the chicken most likely belonged to Kara. Giving it a wary look, Lena took a tentative step forward and glanced back towards the cottage.

 

            It was too early for it to be open yet, and she let out a soft sigh, before reaching for the chicken. It flapped its wings indignantly and hurried away from Lena’s outstretched hands and she bit back a curse as she stumbled after it, chasing the chicken across the lawn while its quiet clucking turned into alarmed squawks. Finally, her hands closed around it and Lena straightened up as the chicken flapped its wings, ruffled its feathers and then settled down in her arms.

 

            A grim look of satisfaction on her face, Lena turned towards the cottage to find a familiar face staring at her out of the kitchen window, a bemused look creasing her forehead as she squinted. Kara wasn’t wearing her glasses. Feeling a bit self-conscious, Lena held the bird in her outstretched hands and gingerly made her way towards the window, her cheeks feeling warm as she neared Kara, who was leaning on the windowsill.

 

            “Hi,” Lena called out.

 

            “Morning.”

 

            “Is this your chicken?”

 

            Cocking her head to the side, Kara smiled as Lena stopped a few feet from the ivy-covered building, teeth bared in a nervous grimace as if she feared the chicken might attack her at any moment.

 

            “That would be Willow,” Kara said with a wry smile, “sorry, a fox got into the coop last week and I haven’t mended the fence properly yet. Thanks for finding her.”

 

            Lena shrugged dismissively, holding the chicken as it looked around with its beady eyes, seemingly unbothered by the fact that it was being held mid-air by a tentative woman. Falling into silence for a moment, Lena met Kara’s blue eyes and gave her a sheepish look. 

 

            “So, um, the chicken?”

 

            “Oh, right, yes,” Kara nervously laughed, before giving Lena an apologetic look. “Would you mind bringing her around the back for me? I don’t really want to carry her through the kitchen. Health and safety, you know.”

 

            Eyebrows rising slightly, Lena nodded, “right, of course. Um, back door?”

 

            “Perfect,” Kara beamed, wiping her hands on a dishtowel, “see you in a second.”

 

            Rounding the left side of the cottage, Lena trampled grass, growing long and wild on the unmowed doorstep to the river and beneath the shaded thicket of trees, and rounded the corner to find herself in a neat backyard, blooming with organised chaos. She hadn’t been round to the other side of the cottage and was surprised at how beautiful it was. Ivy crept up the walls on this side too, green and fresh, and flowerbeds sat beneath the windows on either side of the main entrance, with prickly rose bushes sporting green buds, yellow daffodils crammed in alongside lavender and marigolds, pansies and snapdragons.

 

            Within the confines of the trees, the lawn was neatly mowed, holding a faded wooden picnic table, a chicken coop in the far right corner and an orderly row of wooden boxes on stands. It took Lena a moment to realise they were beehives. As she looked around with interest, wind chimes jangling from the frame of a window, taking in the cobbled path winding through the fairy garden bursting with life and disappearing through the trees to the carpark she’d glimpsed on her walk into town, the door to the cottage opened and she turned to face Kara.

 

            With a smile, the blonde took the hen off her and hoisted it up to eye level, before cuddling her close and stroking the tan feathers. Walking towards the coop held behind a wire mesh fence, Kara carried her chicken and reached for the latch on the gate and smiled as she let out an exasperated sigh, as five more chickens strut towards her. Setting the bird down, Kara crouched down before them and let them peck harmlessly at her hand, while Lena stood outside the pen and watched with a curious look in her eyes. She didn’t quite know what to make of the woman; her kindness was genuine, even towards a stranger who yelled at her for offering up help, and there was a softness to her that made Lena incapable of turning away. Kara reminded her a little bit of Sam.

 

            Lingering while she watched Kara fetch a metal bucket of chicken feed from a small shed hidden amongst the trees, Lena leant against one of the wooden posts of the enclosure and waited as she scattered handfuls of feed to the muddy ground, while the chickens eagerly swarmed the pellets.

 

            “Hey, do you mind holding this a second?”

 

            Lena blinked herself out of her stupor as Kara handed her the bucket over the fence, her blue eyes shining, and Lena nodded as she took hold of the bucket and watched as Kara walked around the enclosure and picked up the brown eggs dotted around the place. Delicately placing them in her apron, holding the corners up to create a vessel to safely carry the eggs, Kara manoeuvred herself out of the enclosure and balled the apron into one fist. Reaching for the bucket of chicken feed, she tried to reclaim it off Lena, who nonchalantly moved it out of the way and shrugged slightly, before they fell into an easy step back to the cottage. Lena deposited the tin beside the door, where a pair of bottle-green rain boots were left out.

 

            “You coming in?” Kara asked as Lena hesitated outside. “Or do you have somewhere you need to be?”

 

            Lena frowned slightly as she met Kara’s sparkling blue eyes, and then realised she was joking. Hesitating for a moment, Lena nodded and followed her inside. She shut the door behind her and breathed in the smell of woodsmoke as a new fire was blazing in the fireplace, flames licking at the freshly cut wood and slowly blackening it, and Lena hovered on the other side of the counter as Kara rounded it and stepped into the kitchen.

 

            She poked her head back through the door a moment later. “You can come into the kitchen, you know.”

 

            Warily following after her, Lena stepped into the kitchen and leant against the doorframe, trying not to intrude. The kitchen was spacious, all white cupboards and unvarnished wooden countertops. An old fashioned stove was wedged into a gap in the counters, gleaming brass pots and pans dangled from hooks underneath the cupboards, an island counter was sprinkled with flour and dotted with mixing bowls and ingredients, ready to be made into muffins or cakes or whatever it was that Kara was cooking up. Above the massive island counter, herbs hung in dried bundles and nets of garlic bulbs and scarlet chilli’s were strung up beside them. It was fragrant and fresh in there and Lena watched as Kara dumped dirty pots into the massive porcelain farmhouse sink and then withdrew a batch of fresh bread from the oven with a pair of mitts. She rushed back and forth for a few moments, filling a large brass kettle with water, setting it on the stovetop and fetching cups, before she finally slowed down and smiled at Lena.

 

            “Sorry, the coffee machine isn’t on yet so we’ll have to wait for the water to boil the old fashioned way,” Kara apologetically told her, before clapping her hands together, “are you hungry? How about scrambled eggs? You can have one of the fresh ones.”

 

            Wordlessly opening and closing her mouth, Lena found herself being pulled into the kitchen by a warm hand and steered down onto a stool pulled up against the island counter by a gentle nudge on her shoulders. Before she could assure Kara that she was fine, eggs were being cracked into a clean mixing bowl and Kara was already whisking them with salt, pepper and cream. Remaining seated, Lena watched in silence while the kettle slowly boiled.

 

            “So, you ever going to tell me anything about yourself, except your name?”

 

            Lena quietly scoffed and ran a hand through her hair, her expression darkening briefly. “I don’t particularly like to share my personal life with strangers.” Hesitating for a moment Lena let out a faint sigh and the furrows of her frown smoothed out. “I was born in Ireland.”

 

            “Ah. See, I would’ve guessed you were a southerner originally. You sound quite posh.”

 

            “I studied in London and went to boarding school here. But I’ve lived in Metropolis since I was four.”

 

            Cocking her head to the side, Kara nodded, a thoughtful look on her face. “I can see that.”

 

            “Which part?” Lena snorted, eyebrows rising slightly.

 

            “Boarding school. You  _ are _ posh,” Kara laughed. “What did you study afterwards?”

 

            “Antique restorations and clockwork.”

 

            Eyebrows rising, Kara poured the egg mixture into a frying pan and snagged the kettle off the heat as the first faint tinny sound of a whistle started to make itself known. Pouring into a teapot, she swirled it around, mixed the eggs, and then poured a strong cup of tea for each of them, stirring in some milk too. She didn’t ask Lena how she liked hers, and Lena had the distinct feeling that Kara had been paying attention to her.

 

            “Interesting.”

 

            “Mm.”

 

            Lena murmured her thanks as a steaming cup of tea was set down in front of her. Picking it up, she warmed her hands on the hot ceramic mug, grateful for the lack of swallows patterning this one. She watched Kara as she sipped her tea, watching as she carefully cut slices of thick bread off a fresh loaf, toasting it until it was golden and spreading butter over it with fluid motions. A pile of perfectly scrambled eggs were scooped out of the pan, and she gave Kara a small smile as a plate was set down in front of her. Pulling up a stool at a right angle to Lena’s position, Kara sat down with her own breakfast.

 

            It was peaceful in the kitchen as they ate in silence. Quiet clucks from the chickens drifted in through the open windows, along with the gentle tinkle of the wind chimes. A retro radio buzzed statically as it tried to pick up a signal, occasionally adding a quiet, unintelligible voice to the quietness of the morning. The smell of parsley and mint was strong from the sliced pile of herbs on the counter, waiting to be used for something, and the eggs were heavenly as Lena ate slowly.

 

            “So what’s that word in your language?”

 

            “I speak English,” Lena slowly said, her brow creasing with confusion.

 

            “I know, but what’s that word in Irish? Sounds like ear.”

 

            “ Éire?”

 

            “That’s the one!” Kara happily exclaimed as she beamed at Lena. “What does it mean?”

 

            In the middle of taking a sip of tea, Lena quietly choked on a laugh as she pressed her hand to her mouth, hiding a smile. She didn’t even realise that she’d laughed for the first time in months - not until she managed to swallow the tea down fully and another laugh slipped out from behind her hand. It died quickly as realisation struck her, and there was a constricting feeling in her chest, but for a very brief moment, she’d felt  _ warm. _ Lena couldn’t say the last time she’d felt anything but cold emptiness.

 

            A sad smile still slightly curled one side of her mouth as she gave Kara a faintly amused look. “It means Ireland.”

 

_             “Oh. _ That makes sense,” Kara nodded, oblivious to Lena’s inner turmoil.

 

            They made quiet conversation for a while before Kara glanced at the clock on the wall and softly swore, before leaping off her stool and throwing Lena an apologetic look and telling her to take her time. Finishing off her eggs alone, Lena listened to the sounds of Kara moving in the building. She could hear chair legs scraping on the stone floor, the sound of steam coming from the coffee machine as it slowly warmed up, and the hurried footsteps moving back and forth.

 

            When she’d drained the rest of her tea, right down to the bitter leaves lingering at the bottom of her cup, Lena took her dirty dishes to the massive sink, shed her coat and rolled up the sleeves of the plaid shirt she was wearing. Filling the basin with hot, soapy water, she slowly started scrubbing the dishes and setting them on the rack to dry. She washed Kara’s too, and the pile of pots and measuring cups and endless knives that were already in the sink. It wasn’t until she was down to the last pot that Kara reappeared and quickly let out a sound of alarm.

 

            “Wha- no, you don’t have to do those!”

 

            Glancing over her shoulder, Lena gave her a slight shrug as she rinsed the pot out and stacked it on top of the precarious pile. “Already done.”

 

            Expression softening, Kara gave her a kind smile as her shoulders sagged slightly and she tilted her head to the side. She’d donned her glasses and her blue eyes were warm behind them. “Thank you,” she gratefully replied.

 

            Nodding, Lena dried her hands on a dishtowel and set it down on the counter, before turning to face Kara. She hesitated for a moment. “Well, I should probably get out of your hair then.”

 

            “Oh, okay.”

 

            “I’ll see you later.”

 

            Kara’s face brightened at the words and she nodded eagerly, “sure, yeah. Have a good day.”

 

            “You too,” Lena softly replied, finding that she meant it too.

 

            She was led to the door by Kara, who showed her out and lingered in the doorway with a smile on her face as she shaded her eyes from the sunlight that had brightened over the early morning. It was eight o’clock, and as Lena glanced back over her shoulder, she could already hear the sound of car doors slamming and the babble of voices of the first customers of the day.

 

            Walking back to her boat, Lena made her way into the cabin, shed her coat and collapsed down in the booth as she readied herself for the arduous task of piecing her clocks back together. Tinkering away, the morning slipped by into afternoon, with short breaks for coffee and a peanut butter sandwich made with Kara’s bread. Lena found her mind straying towards the woman more often than she would’ve liked to admit, especially after she mused over the fact that she’d  _ laughed. _ It made her feel guilty, yet there was just the barest flicker of hope, as if she realised that things weren’t always going to be the way they were. Lena was far from okay, and far from being herself, but for a moment, she’d forgotten that she’d had her heart broken.

 

            It wasn’t until later that night, as she sat out watching the stars and drinking whisky, yellow light flooding out of the second story of  _ The Swallow’s Nest _ that Lena was struck by loneliness and misery. Fleeting conversations with Kara were more than she’d had in weeks, but even that wasn’t enough to comfort her. 

 

            The truth was that she wasn’t sure what she was doing now; Lena was stuck. It would be easy to just buy a flight to Paris, but when she showed up without having made any progress, how could she be sure that she was ready for what came next? But Lena didn’t know how to heal on her own either. So far, solitude and brooding had done nothing but slightly temper the edges of her anger and wounded pride. Aside from a change of scenery, nothing much had changed. Lena was starting to doubt whether it ever would, and if it wasn’t for the flicker of hope that morning, she would’ve been sure that it was futile.


	7. Chapter 7

_             Sam, _

 

_             I miss you. I don’t think I’ve ever missed anyone this badly. Not Lex, and not my dad, but I miss you. Is that bad? I feel like it is; what kind of person doesn’t miss their dead brother or father? I haven’t even cried since my father died, but I feel like crying now. I’m not going to, obviously, but if I could manage it, I think I’d cry and I wouldn’t be able to stop myself. I suppose that’s what happens when you bottle everything up for a decade.  _

 

_             I have to be honest, I’m not doing too good. I thought this would be good for me. A change of pace, a change of scenery. Let me clear my head a bit and sort some things out. But the truth is I don’t feel like anything’s changed, even though it has. It’s like I’m stuck. There’s no way for me to move forward without getting over how hurt I am, but there’s no going back either because you already left me and there’s nothing left in Metropolis for me now. I guess there hasn’t been for a while. _

 

_             You know the other day I laughed for the first time since you left. I didn’t even know I was laughing at first, it just sort of slipped out. And it felt good. I laughed again, and then I realised what I was doing. And then it didn’t feel so good. I don’t know why, but it felt like a betrayal. The café I’m stuck outside is run by this woman, and she laughs a lot, and she makes jam and owns chickens, and it’s such a beautiful place and I envy her the fact that her life is so simply perfect. She makes bread and owns beehives and she’s happy. You can just see it coming off her in waves. And she’s the person that made me laugh, because her lightness is almost infectious. I know it’s stupid to feel bad for laughing, but I did. I did because the last person that made me laugh was you, and now it feels like something’s changed. Like a part of you is gone from me now, replaced by this stranger I barely know. _

 

_             It’s the first of many, I’m now realising, and I don’t want them. I don’t want someone else to be the last person I kissed or someone else to be the last person I thought about before going to sleep. I want it to be you; I always want it to be you. You just don’t want it to be me, and that’s something I need to come to terms with before I go to Paris. _

 

_             I just wanted to say happy birthday. I hope you’re having a good day, and I wish I was with you to celebrate. I’ll give you your gift in Paris. It’s that old Cartier wristwatch I never managed to fix. It was always meant for you. _

 

_             Yours, _

_             Lena _

 

-

 

            A week had passed by quickly, and Lena hadn’t been in the café since that morning Kara had made her scrambled eggs in the kitchen. It wasn’t that she was purposely avoiding her or the place, but the fact that Lena was restless, being stuck in one place, and had taken to going on long walks. Sometimes, she followed the winding riverbank, walking in the shade of the trees as she enjoyed the clusters of wildflowers and plants springing up from the rich soil, and other times she made out for the fields, hopping fences and inching around herds of cows. There was a horse she’d become particularly fond of, and took to stopping and giving it a quick pat on its nose on her travels.

 

            She walked for no particular reason other than the fact that the air was fresh and the greenery was calming. It didn’t help her thoughts much, although she had plenty of time to think, but it reminded her of Scotland and the peacefulness of walking. Minus the chest infection.

 

            But on a windy Tuesday morning, after waking to the familiar hollowness in her chest, and an even bleaker mood than usual, Lena scribbled her frustration and sadness out in a letter, pulled on yesterday’s rumpled clothes and made her way up to the café just in time for it to open. Exhaustion weighed heavily on her shoulders and her eyes were ringed with dark shadows, and there was an air of defeat about her as she pushed open the black painted door.

 

            If she was being honest, Lena didn’t even know why she was there. There was tea and coffee on her boat, and plenty of clocks to assemble, although she was desperately in need of parts after a week of fixing nine clocks until they shone with fresh polish and gleaming brass and gold, and there wasn’t anything in particular that the café had that her boat didn’t. Except for people. But Lena wasn’t particularly in the mood for socialising either. 

 

            Still, she stepped inside, a roaring fire already crackling beneath the mantelpiece, and she shut the door behind her, wiping her feet on the bristly mat just inside. Two tables were occupied by couples, cups sitting in front of them, and Lena paused just inside, wondering whether she should leave. But at the sound of the door, Kara poked her head out of the kitchen and her expression brightened. 

 

            “Éire!” Kara crowed, stepping behind the counter and walking the length of it, smiling behind her glasses as she wiped her hands on a clean apron. “How are you, stranger?”

 

            Shrugging nonchalantly, Lena stepped further inside, making her way up to the counter and drawing in a shuddering breath. That wasn’t a question she particularly wanted to be asked. Kara was smiling at her with such warmth that Lena couldn’t even meet her friendly gaze, instead, focusing on the plastic till situated on the counter. 

 

            “If I hadn’t seen you sitting out on that boat, I would’ve thought you’d skipped town,” Kara continued.

 

            “Oh, uh, yeah, I’ve been busy.”

 

            “Do tell.”

 

            At the playful curiosity in Kara’s voice, Lena glanced up, watching as she leant on the counter and propped her chin up in her hand. A lump lodged itself in her throat, and Lena didn’t quite know what to say. Kara had been nothing but nice to her since she’d shown up on her doorstep, but Lena didn’t know her, and it was simply harmless to tell her that she’d been walking around the countryside, but it was the explanation that would’ve been hard. Lena wasn’t sure if she could make someone else comprehend the  _ why _ , without having to spill a large part of her pain. And she wasn’t ready for that either.

 

            “Clocks,” Lena mumbled. “I’ve been trying to find antique parts.”

 

            “You’re building clocks on your boat?”

 

            Nodding, Lena shrugged self-consciously, “sometimes.”

 

            Giving her an appraising look, Kara nodded, straightening up and planting her hands firmly on the scrubbed wooden counter. The smell of something cooking drifted out of the kitchen, and the café was quiet, soft music, a hum of conversation and the crackling of the fire creating a comforting ambience as Lena shifted awkwardly in front of the counter.

 

            “Right, what can I do you for today? Tea? Coffee? Breakfast?”

 

            Opening her mouth, Lena found herself speechless. Cheeks turning pink, she rubbed at the back of her neck as she ducked her head. She didn’t know what she wanted, she’d just woken from her restless sleep with the strange, numb feeling all throughout her, and she hadn’t wanted to be alone.

 

            “I don’t … know.”

 

            Blinking in mild surprise, Kara opened and closed her mouth a few times, before her expression softened and she reached across the counter to gently touch Lena’s shoulder.

 

            “Well, how about I make you some tea, and you sit by the fire.”

 

            Nodding, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment, Lena dug a handful of change out of her pocket and extended her cupped hand, her fingertips stained blue with ink from the cheap pen she’d used to write her letter that morning. It had snapped halfway through and left an angry splatter on the legal pad, and she’d cursed as she tried to finish it off with the jagged ball-point end. When Kara made no move to take the money off her, Lena let the coins clatter into the half-full tip jar sitting beside the till, before she mumbled her thanks and walked over to the far corner.

 

            Sitting down on an upholstered armchair overlooking the water, Lena silently brooded as she took in the murky green water trundling past, before it was blocked by her boat, embarrassingly on display for every amused customer to see. Troubled by her thoughts, and the pain in her chest and flinching memories from the past, Lena seemed small in comparison to the armchair, curling in on herself and slouching down in it as if she didn’t have the strength to sit up. 

 

            Lips pressed together in a flat line, hands gripping the arms of the armchair and brooding green eyes watching the trailing branches of a willow tree wave in the water as the current of the narrow river tried to tug them downstream, Lena ignored the other two tables as she waited for her tea. 

 

            It wasn’t long before the gentle sound of a teapot being set down in front of her tore her out of her mind, and she watched as a bone china cup covered in swallows was placed in front of her. Swallowing thickly, Lena’s shoulders went taut as she kept her eyes trained on the scarred round table, trying to mask her pain. Another plate was set down in front of her too, holding a thick slice of cake, the glazed top dotted with tiny black seeds.

 

            “I made poppy seed cake yesterday. I thought you might like some.”

 

            Looking up, Lena gave Kara a small smile, feeling some of the heaviness lift away as a pinprick of warmth broke through the hollow feeling inside her. It was a kind gesture. She was a kind person.

 

            As Lena quietly thanked her, a black cat suddenly sprang out of nowhere and up into her lap, while Lena started in surprise. Gingerly looking down at the golden eyes staring back up at her, Lena’s eyes widened slightly as the cat clawed at her jeans, before curling up. A strangled laugh of surprise worked its way up her throat, and she looked up at Kara, who was staring at her with a tender expression on her face.

 

            “Sorry, that’s Streaky. He’s a stray. I mean, I worm him and feed him so he’s not … you know, diseased, but he hangs around the place a lot. You can just put him down.”

 

            “No,” Lena murmured, running her fingers over the soft, black fur, feeling the vibrations of the cat’s quiet purring through her fingertips. “I don’t mind.”

 

            Nodding, Kara watched her for a few moments, while Lena stroked the cat and warm sunlight splashed across the thick slice of cake and steam curled from the mouth of the teapot. The window was cracked open slightly, and a cool breeze wafted in with the sweet smell of flowers and dank river, and Lena seemed to relax in her seat, her shoulders drooping and her solemn expression softening slightly around her eyes and her brow.

 

            “Hey,” Kara quietly interrupted her, “are you okay?”

 

            Closing her eyes, Lena drew in a slow breath and exhaled softly. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Just … long night.”

 

            Giving her a sympathetic smile, Kara wrung a dish towel in her hands, tray tucked under her arm, and stared at her for a moment longer before nodding. “Well, you just let me know if you need anything else. You can stay as long as you’d like.”

 

            Nodding, Lena reached for the teapot as Kara walked off, pouring a stream of dark tea into the fragile cup. Adding a dash of milk, she watched it bloom in the amber tea before she absentmindedly stirred it in and set the teaspoon down on the edge of the saucer. The swallow pattern on all of the china made her feel even worse today.

 

            Taking a scalding sip, Lena frowned at the slab of poppy seed cake and warily pulled it towards her. Carefully holding her teacup in hand, she reached for the fork on the side of the plate and cut off a small piece, stabbing the prongs of the fork in it and raising it to eye level as she gave it a scrutinising look. Popping it in her mouth, her eyebrows rose imperceptibly as she was taken by surprise. It was warm and tasted of oranges.

 

            A quiet laugh caught her attention and she looked up to catch sight of Kara watching her, carrying two plates to a table of the far side of the room. Lena gave her a small smile as she set the fork down and took another sip of tea, giving her an appraising look over the gilt rim of the cup. 

 

            She watched Kara closely, taking in the graceful way she moved between tables with practised ease, the warm look on her face that never slipped up, even for a moment, the way the corners of her mouth naturally lifted up. The pushed-up sleeves of her thin navy sweater, exposing the golden tanned skin of her forearms and the tracing veins and tendons. She always seemed to be covered in flour, and Lena watched her come and go from the kitchen, carrying freshly baked loaves of bread to the display baskets, bringing heaping plates of bacon and eggs or pancakes to the quickly filling tables. Kara had a smile for every customer.

 

            The other dark-haired woman, Imra, showed up shortly before the breakfast rush, exuding the same warmth and friendliness as Kara, and as Lena drank her tea and polished off her cake, she watched them work as a team, listened to the laughter drifting out of the kitchen and the conversation called back and forth from behind the counter to the kitchen. The whole café just seemed so at ease, slowly trundling through the day with leisurely conversation over cups of coffee and freshly made sandwiches. Lena could’ve stayed all day.

 

            In fact, she did. Wrapped up in her dark cloud of bitter regret and loneliness, time passed her by undisturbed, except for the pot of tea that exchanged her empty one at late morning, Imra giving her a quick wink before vanishing into the kitchen. She drank tea by the open window with a sleeping cat in her lap and a fire crackling merrily in the hearth, a new log tossed on when it started dying down to glowing embers. 

 

            Imra asked her if she was hungry shortly after lunch, but Lena was full. Full from the cake, and filled up the rest of the way with misery that sapped any desire to eat. She wasn’t disturbed again until the place slowly emptied and the shadows were lengthening over the turbid waters of the river. The sun was sinking low, golden hour bathing her table in buttery warm light, highlighting Streaky’s twitching whispers, and she had her eyes closed as she leaned back in her armchair, sunlight slanted across her face, and a softness to her face as she basked in its warm rays. The tension had bled out of her, and Lena had been content to sit there all day until the dregs of her tea had turned stone cold and she’d forgotten why she was full of bitterness. Until her troubles had gotten smaller and her bitterness had diminished to sadness - a hopeful sadness, the kind that made her believe that things won't always be this way.

 

            “You’re all finished?” a gentle voice interrupted her.

 

            Eyelashes fluttering open, Lena blinked rapidly as she straightened up, stretching her back as it arched in the seat, one hand gently cradling the thing, bumpy spine of the dozing cap, and she looked up at Kara. She was smiling down at Lena, wisps of blonde hair loose from her ponytail, turned golden in the sunlight as it turned her blue eyes crystalline. She stepped further into the sunlight and the lens of her glasses turned silver, obscuring her eyes once more.

 

            “Oh, um, yes,” Lena said, blinking as her sluggish mind woke up, “thank you.”

 

            Running a hand through her hair, she looked about at the empty room. Even the fire had burned down to charred lumps and smouldering ashes, and she realised how late the afternoon was getting. Lost in thought, the day had slipped her by with relative pain-free and she quickly reached out to stack the milk jug into her cup.

 

            “Sorry,” Lena apologised, her expression darkening for a moment as she set the stack of tea ware on the edge of the table. “I didn’t realise it was so late. You should’ve kicked me out.”

 

            Sheepishly smiling, Kara rubbed at the back of her neck, her cheeks turning faintly pink as she ducked her head. “You weren’t a bother. And … not to be presumptuous, but I think you needed to just sit there all day.”

 

            “Sometimes all you need is to sit and drink tea.”

 

            Kara quietly laughed, her cheek dimpling as she tilted her head to the side and stared at Lena. She cradled the bone china teapot in her arms, her perfectly white teeth gently biting her bottom lip as an apprehensive look crossed her face. Her chest rose ever so slightly as she breathed in.

 

            “Can I ask you something?”

 

            “Sure.”

 

            “Why did you come here? I mean, not  _ here _ , but the boat …”

 

            Lena went rigid in her seat, letting her eyes wander back out to the window, where deep shadows dappled the grey surface of the water as dusk settled in. The narrowboat was a dark shadow in the mouth of the arch, the black paint inky against the grey of the rapidly approaching night, and she let out a faint sigh as she turned back to Kara with a grimace on her face.

 

            “Do you want to sit?”

 

            Setting the teapot back down on the table, Kara pulled out the armchair across from Lena and settled down in it, elbow propped up on the arm and chin delicately cupped. The old burnished chandelier hanging from the ceiling cast a pool of deep amber light over the empty room, and warm light flooded in from the kitchen, keeping the encroaching darkness at bay as they found themselves tucked away in a shadowy corner of the coffee shop. The last shreds of heat radiated from the low-burning embers of the fire, and for some unspeakable reason, Lena didn’t find Kara intrusive at all. 

 

            They sat in silence for a long while, neither of them breaking the hushed quietness as it stretched on, and Lena was grateful for Kara’s patience. She looked like she had all the time in the world, and everything about her was gentle and kind, from the earnest look in her eyes, to the way she languidly draped herself on the chair. Drawing in a long, shuddering breath, Lena finally spoke.

 

            “It was a woman. How typical,” Lena snorted, shaking her head as she fixed her hard eyes on the window made up of square panes, finding the light inside reflected on the warped glass as the sun passed beyond the horizon. “Afterwards … there was nothing left for me, so I flew to Scotland and I went for a walk.”

 

            “A walk?”

 

            “A long walk. From Inverness to Carlisle.”

 

            She gave Kara a sly look, a slow smile curling her mouth as she took in the unabashed look of surprise on Kara’s face. Sitting up straighter in her chair, Kara raised her eyebrows as she opened her mouth to speak a few times, before coming up short.

 

            “Well … that  _ is _ a long walk.”

 

            “And then I saw the boat for sale, so I bought it. I’m sailing to Paris.”

 

            “Paris, huh? What’s in Paris?”

 

            “Her. Maybe. I hope.”

 

            Kara nodded thoughtfully, keeping her opinions to herself, and they lapsed back into silence. It was an easy silence, but Lena felt frustration well up inside her, that hollowness yawning wide open as she was struck again by her predicament, by the cold, unwelcome sadness that was eating up at her, and she couldn’t bear to be left alone to dwell on it. So she quietly cleared her throat and jerked her chin towards Kara.

 

            “What about you? What brings and American to a place like this in the south-west of England?”

 

            Letting out an airy laugh, Kara waved her hand vaguely. “The same reason as you, actually. A man. I followed him here, and it … well, it was a complete disaster. So I thought I’d make the most of my trip and do some sightseeing. I was on my way to Dover, thought I’d see the white cliffs and all that, and I drove through this town, and the locals recommended this little teahouse, so I came and had tea and I fell in love.”

 

            Kara gave her a half-hearted smile, her dark eyes shining brightly in the dimly lit confines of the cottage. 

 

            “The place was for sale and I just- I stood on that bridge, and I looked at the cottage, and it was autumn then and the entire house was crimson and orange, and I thought to myself  _ I could live here _ . It was so peaceful, with the river and the countryside and the trees. I could imagine myself planting flowers in the garden, owning beehives and making pie from the apple trees out back. I could see myself in the summer, reading good books in the sunshine, listening to the birds and going for long walks at sunset, when the sky was just as I liked it. I never made it back home; I bought it the next day.”

 

            “That sounds … lovely,” Lena murmured, a wistful look on her face. 

 

            And it wasn’t just the cottage and the peace and quiet, but the fact that Kara had been able to move on so easily. Just by looking at her, Lena could tell that her heart was whole and full, not hollowed out and empty of any joy and happiness, like hers. Kara seemed at ease, content with her life as if she’d found exactly what she was looking for on that riverbank. Lena envied her. She envied her life and the way she carried herself with such assurance. 

 

            There was nothing but kindness and calmness about her. Lena felt out of sorts in front of her, as if the mere fact of them talking was to shamefully reveal all of the hurt inside her, all of her bitterness and anger and heartbreak. Lena couldn’t quite look at her. Kara reminded her of Sam. 

 

            “It is. My family wasn’t too happy about it though. My sister came here to try and drag me back. That was two years ago now.”

 

            “Well … at least you have people who care enough to want you back.”

 

            Kara gave her a sympathetic smile, her eyes sad and full of understanding. The only person Lena had left now was her mother, and Lillian was too busy trying to run their antiquities business to spare more than an irritated thought for her daughter who had left her in the lurch. It had always been a family business, and Lena had left it up to her mother, leaving without so much as a goodbye. Not even a phone call afterwards. Even if her mother wanted to bring her home, she wouldn’t even know where to start looking for Lena.

 

            “I should leave you to it,” Lena cut Kara off as the chef opened her mouth to offer some comforting words or another. 

 

            Gently scooping the cat off her lap, she rose from the old armchair and slipped out from behind the table, before setting Streaky down on the paved floor. Watching as the stray arched his back and yawned, baring yellowed pointed teeth as a pink tongue curled in its mouth, and she let out a quiet huff of amusement as it rubbed up against her leg and purred.

 

            Kara quickly rose to her feet and smiled at Lena, before picking up the teapot and the stack of teaware and following her towards the door. Pulling open the door, Lena paused for a moment, a troubled look in her green eyes as she wrestled with herself for a moment, before she glanced at Kara and her expression softened ever so slightly.

 

            “Thank you.”

 

            She didn’t have to say what for. Kara had known that she was struggling, that it was a rough day for her, and she’d shown Lena more kindness than she’d received in a long while. Since Sam. Just the simple act of sitting in a café, drinking tea with a cat curled up in her lap, and warm sunshine spilling in through the open windows, along with the breeze, had been enough. It had been a small gift, to sit undisturbed and forget her worries until they seemed smaller than they were. 

 

            “Have a good night, Éire,” Kara quietly told her, and Lena let out a quick laugh at the nickname.

 

            “You too, Kara.”

 

            The woman seemed to glow slightly, and as Lena stepped outside into the moonlight, she turned to glance once more at the woman backlit by warm light and gave her a small smile. A dark shadow slipped past Kara’s feet and out into the night with a small mewl in parting, and Lena watched the dark patch of shadows streak across the grass and into the night.  Raising her hand in a small wave, Lena buried her ink-stained hands in her pockets and hurried across the lawn of the riverbank.

 

            Soft mud squelched under her boots as she quietly trampled damp grass underfoot, and she glanced back at the cottage as she neared the cobblestoned bridge to find Kara silhouetted against a rectangle of light spilling out of the open door. Lena’s chest ached slightly at the realisation that the other woman was waiting for her to make it back onto her boat safely before locking up for the night.

 

            Walking midway across the bridge, Lena hopped over the mossy wall and carefully padded across the roof of the boat, before dropping down the rusted ladder, the metal squeaking where it pulled away slightly from the wall before she landed heavily on the deck. The sound carried across the water, breaking through the muffled hush of hooting birds and rustling leaves and the dulcet croak of frogs hidden in the muddy bank, and Lena watched as the rectangle of light grew narrower, until the door was tightly shut.

 

            Inside, Lena shed her coat, tossed it onto the green leather of the booth chair and carried on through the narrow pass to the other end of the boat. Leaving a pool of yesterday’s clothes on the floor, she stepped into the jerky spurts of cold water, shivering as her skin rippled beneath the slew of water, arms wrapped around herself as her hair plastered to her face as she bowed beneath the showerhead. 

 

            Eventually, it warmed, and Lena wiped her hair out of her face as she turned it up towards the stream pouring down on her. Scrubbing herself clean, until her skin was red and the water was scalding, she sank down to the bottom of the cubicle and curled up in a ball and basked in the feeling of warmth as it chased away the cold that suffused her body.

 

            Changing into clean pyjamas in her bedroom, she rubbed her wet hair with a towel and padded barefoot back towards the tiny kitchen. Lighting the gas stove, she set the kettle over it and huddled close to the glowing orange rings as heat radiated from it. Making herself a cup of bitter coffee, Lena retreated to her booth and the cluttered table of clock pieces with a packet of biscuits and the intention of staying up all night working on her clocks.

 

            Picking up a pair of tweezers, she fixated on the latest clock she’d been working on. The walnut wood was richly varnished, the gears were oiled and polished, and she picked up a pivot with the narrow tip of the tweezers and carefully slipped it into the pivot hole. Exchanging the tweezers for red-handled pliers, she cut the wire and held the pivot in hand. Taking a sip of black coffee and a bite of a custard cream, she picked up a tapered file, eyed it for a moment, and then swapped it for a rectangular file, and carefully got to work on the gear.

 

            After an hour of slowly piecing back together rivets and straightening out the bent brass mount of the pendulum with a bronze tipped hammer, she added a brand new mainspring to replace the old, rusted one she’d taken out, wound the clock up and added the back of the case. It had been stripped down to remove the flaking varnish and scarred wood, and with its new layer of polish and the gentle ticking of the clock keeping time with the other few dozen she’d accumulated, it looked as good as new.

 

            Allowing herself a small smile of satisfaction, Lena swallowed the cold dregs of her coffee, grimaced and set to work neatly arranging the mess of wire, tools, gears and clock parts into chaotic order, before brushing metal and wood shavings into her palm and tossing them into the trash. Washing her oil and ink-stained hands under a rush of cold water, she stared out at the silvery ribbon of moonlight dancing on the surface of the river and felt exhaustion wash over her.

 

            She’d been planning to fix another clock tonight, perhaps two, but it had been a long day, and the simple act of doing nothing but sit had left her feeling lethargic and drained. Brushing her teeth in the minuscule bathroom, Lena ran a brush through the snarls of her dry hair and then stoked the woodfire burner in the galley, before bundling herself up into bed with her hand clutched around the gold swallow charm dangling from a gold chain around her neck. 

 

            She fell asleep quickly, undisturbed by bad dreams, and her pale face looked almost relaxed in the darkness of her boat as she was surrounded by the comforting sound of ticking clocks and the quiet sound of water rushing around her.


	8. Chapter 8

_ One swallow does not make a summer, but one skein of geese, cleaving the murk of a March thaw, is the spring. _

_ \- Aldo Leopold _

 

-

 

            Rising early a few days later, before even the sun had spread its pale rays over the springtime earth, Lena showered and dressed in the small boat and made her way out to the kitchen. Charred wood burned deep red in the ashes of the woodfire burner and she made herself some toast with a thick spread of Kara’s strawberry jam, before donning her coat and shoving her feet into her walking boots.

 

            Stepping out onto the deck, she found a thick shroud of mist obscuring the water, muffling the sounds of ducks paddling on its glassy surface, and she quickly scrambled up the ladder. The rungs were so cold that they felt like fire in her grasp as she hauled herself up onto the dew-slicked roof. 

 

            Climbing over the wall, she crossed the lawn in front of the dark cottage, her breath visible before her and her feet crunching on the thin layer of frost as the bitter morning chilled her to the bone. It was eerie, walking through the treeline, trampling wild mushrooms and through brambles snagging at her jeans, and the damp clung to her dark hair as her loud heartbeat thumped in her ears.

 

            She went for a walk on the downs, even though it was very foggy and she couldn’t see far in front of her. The cold felt good against her cheeks, pinching them pink as it worked its way down her throat and turned her lungs to ice, until every breath was a sharp pain in her chest. Through tall grass and over bluffy knolls, Lena walked, the cloudy sky turning a deep grey as dawn was hinted at.

 

            It was a good way to start the day, feeling rejuvenated from a good night’s sleep, and as the fog lifted to a faint mist and the layer of frost melted to dew, Lena flopped down onto a damp patch of clover at the peak of a hill. Curled up into a ball, arms wrapped around her knees, she watched the hill drop away into the mist lingering in the dips and valleys of the downs and turned her face up to the sky. 

 

            Thinking about everything that had happened, and everything that was yet to come, she watched as dawn split through the grey, burning deep red and fiery orange as slivers of sunlight spilt across the blanket of green. She stayed until the sun was nearly all the way over the horizon, before setting back for the cottage.

 

            In the early morning light, she could see the rooftops of the tiny hamlet nestled in between towns, a haze of mist clinging to it, and she set off towards a thicket of trees following the ribbon of blue snaking through the countryside. It was peaceful and Lena ambled along with her hands in her pockets, her breath fainter in the air before her and the wind less biting. 

 

            As she neared the cottage, she caught sight of something slinking through the shadows of the grove of apple trees bordering the back of the cottage, just behind the beehives. And the chicken coop. Warily edging around the side of the building, Lena spotted the small figure with russet fur clawing at the mesh wire and realised it was a scrawny looking fox, creeping out from its den in the woods to try and sneak back into the coop for a chicken.

 

            “Oi!” Lena shouted, hurrying across the garden to shoo it away.

 

            It had the wire in its mouth as she neared, and turned skittishly, dark eyes watching her, before it bounded off into the trees, a beam of sunlight briefly illuminating its rust coloured winter coat, before it melded into the shadows of the underbrush, lost amongst the ferns and witch hazel.

 

            Looking down at the crumpled wire at the coming up at the base of the fence, Lena crouched down and sighed. The wood was clawed into jagged splinters and luckily its teeth hadn’t been able to chew through the wire - yet. Reaching down, Lena scooped a handful of soil away from the base of the fence and gently tugged along the bottom of the wire mesh, watching as it pulled up easily, uprooting grass and pink worms wriggling in the cold air.

 

            “What’re you doing?”

 

            Head whipping around, Lena took in the tall blonde figure watching her with furrowed brows and lips pressed together, a bemused look in her blue eyes, and she quickly rose to her feet, brushing her hands off on her jeans as she glanced down at the black earth spilling out of the trench she’d made. Kara was wearing a pink bathrobe over sweatpants, her feet shoved into a pair of green rain boots and her hair dishevelled. Lena sheepishly realised her shouting must’ve woken her.

 

            “I was looking at your chicken coop.”

 

            “Oh,” Kara said, her frown deepening and she cocked her head to the side. “Why?”

 

            Lena let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of her hand over her forehead as she gave her a sheepish smile. “I saw a fox trying to get into it, and … well, no offence, but it’s a bit shit.”

 

            A surprised laugh bubbled up and fell from Kara’s lips as her eyebrows shot up and her whole face brightened with mirth. “Oh, well, in that case …”

 

            “You have to bury the wire underground, otherwise they dig it up.”

 

            “Huh, and how do you know so much about foxes?”

 

            “Common sense.”

 

            Kara chuckled again, giving Lena an appraising look as she took in the crescents of soil beneath her fingernails and her muddy boots, and the knuckles blackened with dirt. They stood facing each other for a few moments, before Kara nodded, mouth turning down at the corners with admiration.

 

            “I can fix it for you,” Lena eventually offered, a wary look on her face as she looked at Kara with an earnest look in her green eyes. “If you have a shovel and some shears. Perhaps some more wire.”

 

            Biting her bottom lip, Kara eyed the edge of galvanised metal Lena had dug up out of the earth, and smiled slightly. Lena gave her an anxious look, worried that perhaps she’d been too presumptuous with her gesture. She’d intended it to be a kind one, and Kara didn’t seem like the kind of person who would snub the offer to patch up the shoddy chicken coop. After the simple kindness she’d shown Lena, Lena wanted to pay it back, and there wasn’t much she could do to help someone she didn’t really know.

 

            “I have some in the shed,” Kara said after a few moments.

 

            She turned, robe flapping around her legs as she made for the worn garden shed, pulling out a roll of wire mesh, which Lena silently took from her, before she was handed an assortment of tools that she quietly suggested would be useful, if Kara had them. A short while later, she was standing with an armful of items, while Kara held and an armful of her own, and they moved towards the chicken coop to deposit them on the grass.

 

            Shedding her coat, Lena rolled up the sleeves of her plaid green shirt, and folded her coat up, before gently placing it on the grass, a safe distance away from all the dirt she would be digging up.

 

            “Right, well, I’ll leave you to it,” Kara said, giving her a bright smile, “and thank you.”

 

            “Sure. No problem.”

 

            “Let me know if you need anything.”

 

            Nodding, Lena brushed a few stray hairs out of her face and turned back towards the task at hand, sinking down to her knees and picking up the trowel. Along the bottom of the mesh, she pulled the fence out of the shallow bed it lay in, before scooping out black soil with the hand trowel. 

 

            Soon, a neat pile had amassed along the edge of the deep trench she was digging, and her hands and forearms were filthy with streaks of dirt. The sun weakly shone down on her, and before long the sound of customers making their way up the narrow trodden path from the parking lot reached her ears. Nobody paid her any attention, and she was content to breathe in the smell of fresh bread and listen to the quiet clucking of the chickens and the tinkling of the windchime by the door as she worked.

 

            With pliers, she dug the staples out of the wooden posts, and sanded down the rough patches, in case children gave themselves splinters while watching the chickens. It was a long process, but she didn’t mind, carefully digging up sections of mesh and coiling it up, before replacing it with new panels of wire fencing. She buried them deep down in the dirt, too deep for foxes to dig, before hammering nails into the wood and bending them sharply to the side to ensure the wire was secure. She also placed the old wiring in too, rehammering it into place further down in the hole, ensuring a thicker base of wire for the foxes to try and chew and dig through, before she slowly filled the trench back in with the pile of earth.

 

            By the time she was finished, it was mid-morning, her hands were blistered and she’d cursed her way through more than one splinter, not to mention the soil that caked her hands and the knees of the jeans. Running a hand over her forehead, she packed up everything borrowed from the shed and carefully replaced it, before grabbing the pail of chicken feed and scattering handfuls over the new fence of the coop.

 

            Once she was done, she grabbed her coat and walked towards the open kitchen window overlooking the backyard, rapping her knuckles against the warped glass as she looked in through it. Kara was on the other side of the kitchen, her back to Lena as she overlooked the river and haphazardly chopped vegetables with frightening speed and little concentration.

 

            At the knock, she turned, set her knife down and smiled as she walked towards Lena. She watched as Kara leant towards the window, hands braced against the porcelain sink inside. 

 

            “It’s all done,” Lena stated, a serious look on her face. “I double-layered the wire so they should have trouble digging or biting through it. You’d be better off cementing the bottom, but it’ll ruin your garden.”

 

            “Thank you,” Kara beamed at her. “Are you coming in?”

 

            Holding her muddy hands up, Lena gave her a slight smile, “I should probably wash up.”

 

            Quietly laughing, Kara jerked her head back in gesture. “There’s a bathroom at the bottom of the stairs. Wash your hands and I’ll make you a sandwich.”

 

            “Oh. Okay.”

 

            Moving towards the back door, Lena gingerly opened it and stepped inside, wiping her boots off on the mat, before turning to find Kara stepping out of the kitchen and behind the counter. Paralleling her, Lena followed the counter to the opposite end of the building, before rounding the end and stepping through the wooden door that Kara had slipped through.

 

            Finding herself huddled into the narrow confines at the bottom of a wooden staircase, she glanced up at Kara, who loomed over her from the bottom step. It was such a small space that even her standing on a step and Lena on the floor, they were intimately close. Opposite the end of the staircase was another door.

 

            “It’s just in there.”

 

            “Thank you,” Lena murmured.

 

            She had to step back to open the door, with just enough room for it to gently graze the lip of the bottom step, and she found herself shrinking back against Kara, who had herself braced with her hands flat against the stone walls encasing the staircase. Feeling herself flush slightly as her back brushed Kara’s chest, Lena quickly disappeared inside and shut the door, safely locking herself inside.

 

            A string hung from the ceiling, and she awkwardly managed to tug it without using her hands, the naked bulb overhead filling the cramped space with light. A narrow slit of a window, mostly overgrown with ivy, let in a breath of fresh air, and she hurriedly scrubbed her hands clean with the beeswax hand wash, trying her best to get the dirt out from under her nails. Despite her best efforts, the lines of her palms were still creased with dirt and raw from hours spent handling tools. Drying her hands off with the clean hand towel hooked on the wall, she slipped back out into the café.

 

            It was calmly crowded, as usual, and she spotted Imra clearing tables, while Kara must’ve been in the kitchen. Making her way back to the other end of the room, near the open kitchen door, Lena hovered nearby, waiting for Kara.

 

            “Go on outside if you like,” Imra said on her way past with an armful of plates, “I’ll bring you out some coffee.”

 

            Nodding, Lena quickly stepped back out into the mild day. Standing just outside the door, with the hum of a radio drifting from the kitchen, the wind chimes tinkling gently on the breeze and the garden starting to bloom around her, it smelled and sounded like spring. Listening to the birds and the drone of bees, there was something healing about the morning as the wind caressed her face and Lena felt like she could breathe. She’d found distraction in mending the fence, the same way she did in fixing clocks, and it helped to keep her hands busy. It had been a good morning.

 

            A few minutes later, Imra stepped outside, shouldering the door open with two cups in hand and a packet of cigarettes. She handed a cappuccino to Lena, shrugging as she apologised for the random guess, and Lena quietly thanked her, happy to have a real coffee with frothed milk. 

 

            “You’re good with your hands, I take it,” Imra said as she whacked the packet of cigarettes against her palm, until one slid out. Plucking it out, she neatly clamped it between her lips, offering the pack to Lena, who shook her head, before pocketing it in her apron and fishing out a lighter. “Did you build that boat yourself?”

 

            Eyebrows rising in surprise, Lena let out a quiet laugh, nursing her coffee between her cold palms as she watched the other woman try and set the lighter aflame in the wavering breeze. She let out a triumphant sound as she managed to set the tip of the cigarette ablaze, inhaling as the end glowed orange, before slipping the lighter back into her apron pocket. 

 

            “No, I, do antique restorations. That kind of stuff.”

 

            “Yeah? Like furniture?”

 

            “Mostly just clocks. Sometimes furniture and framing paintings. Family business.”

 

            Imra hummed with interest, brushing dark hair out of her face. She was pretty, and Lena tilted her head to the side as she snuck glances at her in between sips of her coffee. They were silent, appreciating the peacefulness of the outdoors, before Kara abruptly stuck her head out the window with a plate in her hand.

 

            “I made tuna- hey!” she said, scowling as she caught sight of Imra, “no smoking near the windows,  _ or _ the door. Go on.”

 

            Rolling her eyes, Imra took the plate with Lena’s sandwich off Kara, who gave her an exasperated look of fondness, and Lena thanked Kara as Imra passed the plate off to her and walked off. Lena trailed after her.

 

            “She’s a pain in my arse, but I love her,” Imra grumbled around the cigarette dangling from her lips, carrying her cup of tea towards the picnic bench as Lena trailed after her, plate and cup in hand.

 

            “How long have you been working here?” Lena asked, swinging a leg over the worn wooden bench and settling down.

 

            She picked up her sandwich and watched as Imra blew a steady stream of white smoke into the wind, which quickly whisked it away, only the faintest smell of tobacco lingering in the air. Cocking her head to the side, Imra’s brow furrowed as her blue eyes narrowed slightly. Holding the cigarette primly between her fingers she dashed it against the side of the ashtray.

 

            “About a month after she took over this place. It was quite funny actually.”

 

            “Mm?” Lena mumbled around a mouthful of tuna.

 

            Rolling her eyes, Imra grimly smiled. “Did she tell you what brought her here?”

 

            At Lena’s nod, Imra continued, eyebrows rising as she gingerly smiled.

 

            “Well, that was  _ my _ husband. Only, he didn’t  _ tell _ her he was married. Poor girl showed up in London - came to surprise him - only for  _ me _ to answer the door instead.”

 

            “She- she didn’t tell me that part.”

 

            Lena’s stomach lurched as she cast a quick glance back towards the cottage. She couldn’t see Kara through the window, but she felt a lump wedge itself in her throat for her. It wasn’t quite the same as Lena’s predicament, but it was so nerve-touchingly close, and possibly worse. At least Sam hadn’t been married; she’d just left. Not for the first time, Lena marvelled at Kara’s warmth, at the strength it must’ve taken her to get past it, to become  _ friends _ with the wife of the man she’d been with. 

 

            “Right, well, of course I didn’t blame  _ her. _ I felt sorry for her. I could see it on her face when she opened the door, the surprise, the devastation, the horrible realisation. I left him, of course, and she left immediately, and I just … I felt like I had to tell her I didn’t blame her. Too many women do that, you know. I found her online, found out where she was, and I drove down here. I ended up with a job and a best friend.”

 

            “You like it here?”

 

            Waving a hand vaguely, smoke trailing from the cigarette as it quickly receded to ash, eaten up by the slow smouldering fire, Imra shrugged. “Sure. I’m from Manchester; it’s a bit of peace and quiet after there and London. Can’t find anything to complain about, really. Why, you thinking of staying?”

 

            Cheeks burning at the teasing tone, Lena laughed and Imra laughed with her, goodnaturedly, and taking a sip of coffee, Lena let her eyes wander around the place. “No. It doesn’t have anything here for me. Of course, I’m stuck here for  _ now.” _

 

            “You could always just leave the boat. They’ll fish it out when they feel like it.”

 

            Shrugging, Lena grimaced, “the boat was part of the plan. I’m, uh, I’m sailing to Paris.”

 

            “Yeah? What’s in Paris?”

 

            “A woman. I hope.”

 

            “You hope?”

 

            “I guess I’ll find out.”

 

            “Hm,” Imra hummed, blowing out a last lungful of smoke, before outing the cigarette in the terracotta ashtray on the faded table, holding the ashy sludge of rain and past cigarettes. Rising to her feet, Imra picked up her cup and nodded to Lena. “I’ve got to get back to work. Enjoy.”

 

            Nodding, Lena watched her go and sat there alone, enjoying the tuna sandwich and the milky coffee as she basked in the sunlight. She watched the chickens scratch at the muddy ground of their coop and watched a squirrel spiral around the trunk of a tree, brooding over what it would be like to stay somewhere like this cottage. If it wasn’t for Sam, she could see herself settling down somewhere quiet, opening her own antiquities store. She could put all of the clocks she’d repaired in it. It would be a quiet life, an empty life, without love or any real sense of living. It would be like plodding along without a sense of direction, and while Lena loved her work, she wanted more than that. She wanted to love someone and be loved in return, but the one person she loved hadn’t loved her back.

 

            Finishing off her sandwich, Lena finished the warm dregs of her coffee, dusted off her lap and climbed to her feet. Stepping over the bench, she put the cup on top of the plate and walked towards the cottage, stepping inside and walking over to the far end of the counter with the till. She set the plate down on the counter and waited, until Imra stepped up behind it and gave her a friendly smile.

 

            “How much is it?” Lena quietly asked, fishing change out of her pocket.

 

            “I think Kara will kill me if I charge you after you fixed her fence. She’s bloody nuts about those chickens.”

 

            Eyebrows rising slightly, Lena continued to count out her coins, holding a fistful of pounds and looking up to meet Imra’s amused eyes. “Kara’s running a business, not a charity,” she said, holding her cupped hand out. “I can always just put it in the tip jar …”

 

            As her hand strayed towards it, with too much change for a simple sandwich and coffee, Imra sighed and held out her hand. Allowing herself a small, triumphant smile, Lena handed the money over, and Imra handed her back her change, which Lena let clatter into the tip jar anyway. Imra gave her a flat look, and Lena shrugged, the curves of her face almost seeming lighter, as if she was about to smile.

 

            “Well, have a good day.”

 

            “Yeah, you too,” Imra called after her as Lena turned.

 

            Walking towards the door overlooking the water, she stepped out into the late morning, glancing up and realising that the sun was nearly at its highest peak, and she trudged back towards her boat with her shoulders a little less bowed. Her chest seemed to ache a little less too, and her mind felt less troubled. Of course, there was still that emptiness, the holes that had opened up when Sam had left, just waiting for Lena to stumble back into them and dwell in her sad misery.

 

            Back inside her boat, she did the dishes as she stared out of the small window overlooking the water, watching ducks rustle through the reeds of the bank, sunlight sparkling off the surface of the river and the damp smell of the countryside carried in on the gentle breeze that set the trees whispering amongst themselves.  _ Rumours  _ played on the battered record player as she quietly tidied up, unhurried and distracted, folding her dirty laundry and shoving them into her hulking backpack for when she could do her laundry - she was down to the last of the tacky tourist t-shirts she’d picked up along the way - and giving the kitchen and bathroom a wipedown with bleach.

 

            The table was still covered with all manner of clock pieces, the bench along the opposite side crowded with mended clocks, and the counters stacked with yellowed maps, tattered nature and bird books and the old copy of the Iliad she’d come to appreciate, but Lena felt better after cleaning the place up. Even shaking out the quilt and watching the sheets balloon out and gently settle over the old mattress was soothing. It gave her the illusion that everything was okay, that she had it all together.

 

            Of course, that wasn’t the truth, and she found herself brooding as she stood in the bathroom with a pair of needle-pointed tweezers, squeezing splinters out of her hands and thinking about how different everything was now. Never could Lena have predicted that her life would derail itself in such a spectacular fashion as to find herself stuck on a river and fixing chicken coops with hands that had been made to precious antiques from around the globe. Yet, never has she felt so satisfied, so drained from a job, and the knowledge that she’d accomplished something other than replacing a few mainsprings and pivots and stripping some old wood. 

 

            With the music softly drifting out of the open cabin door, her hands raw but free of any splinters, Lena retreated out onto the deck at the back of the boat, settling down on the old chair with her book and some tea and basked in the mild sunlight of the early spring. Occasionally, she’d glance up at the cottage, catching sight of curtains fluttering in the breeze and the odd guest walking down the riverbank or through the trees. She would scowl and feel her cheeks warm whenever they did, knowing that they were looking at her and her stuck boat with amusement. Lena buried her nose in her book and pretended to be oblivious.

 

            It was a slow day. She spent most of it outside in the fresh air, her troubles seeming smaller as she lost herself in Greek myths as best she could. Although there was an air of despair about her, ever-present, weighing down her shoulders as she hunched forward, reading Greek tragedies and finding herself irritable, even as she kept reading. She found herself understanding Sisyphus and his cursed boulder he was forever pushing up a hill, feeling like her grief was her own boulder. 

 

            No matter how she tried to come to terms with her broken heart, it never seemed like she got anywhere with it. There were fleeting moments, where a laugh or a smile would rise above it, where she felt at peace, and then the boulder of misery would roll down from its peak and feel heavier than before. It seemed futile, but Lena knew she couldn’t go to Paris as she was. She was okay, but she wasn’t fine, and she wouldn’t be able to compose herself in front of Sam as she was. No matter how insistent she was that she’d go there and be the bigger person, apologise to her and find closure, whether it be just as Ruby’s aunt or something else, Lena knew it in her heart that if she went there now, she’d fall apart and beg her to come back.


	9. Chapter 9

_She looked up at the rap of knuckles on the old wooden door and glanced up from the maze of connecting gears and pivots inside the tangled mess of the clock. She watched as her brother poked his head inside._

 

_“Lena, do you have a moment?”_

 

_“Sure.”_

 

_Pushing the magnifying glass on its adjustable stand aside, Lena straightened up on the plush leather stool and set down the pliers and tweezers as Lex stepped in, shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows. He’d been working. The smell of turpentine, varnish and wood shavings clung to him as he neared her desk, giving her a small smile._

 

_“Is that a Schneider?” he blurted out._

 

_Giving him a bright smile of amusement, Lena arched an eyebrow. The clock before her was a cuckoo clock, tiny individual shingles attached to a replica of a chalet made from walnut wood. It was hand-painted and the exterior was all wood, from the tiny children, the waterwheel that turned with the hour, and the bird that popped out of the carved wooden doors. She’d spent five hours repainting all of the parts and varnishing them again, and now she was trying to get the internal mechanism in sync again, so when she pulled the heavy weights hanging from chains beneath the clock, it would wind up and keep time correctly._

 

_“Now, I know you didn’t come here to look at my clockwork,” Lena laughed. “What is it?”_

 

_Her brother rounded the workbench she was sitting at and leant against the edge of it, towering over her as she remained seated on the high stool. Glancing up at him, she frowned slightly at the solemn look on his face._

 

_“What?”_

 

_“I need you to do something for me.”_

 

_Sighing, she rolled her eyes. “I’m too busy to help you with your reframing. And you know I hate the smell of turps.”_

 

_“It’s not that.”_

 

_His voice was quiet and uncharacteristically gentle and lacking his usual wit. The seriousness took Lena by surprise, and she raised her eyebrows as she turned on her stool, leaning on the worktop with her elbow as she stared up at his haggard face._

 

_“I need you to promise me something.”_

 

_Wariness flickered in her green eyes as she nodded. “Okay.”_

 

_“I need you to look after the baby when she’s born. And Sam. Just … make sure they’re okay.”_

 

_“Are you going somewhere?” she snorted._

 

_“I’m dying.”_

 

_The blood drained from her face before the laughter had even vanished from the soft creases at the corner of her eyes or mouth, and her stomach lurched. She stared up at her brother’s face with frightened eyes, her heart hammering in her chest, and then she scowled._

 

_“Don’t say things like that,” she snapped, turning in her stool to pick up the pliers in a trembling hand._

 

_Lex lay a big hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “It’s cancer. It’s progressing quickly. I’ll most likely be gone before the baby arrives. I’ve set aside money for them, but … they’re going to be family. You have so much love to give; I think they’re going to need some of it.”_

 

_Hand clenched around the tool, Lena swallowed the lump in her throat, her shoulders tense beneath the old shirt she was wearing, and she drew in a shuddering breath as a hollow feeling spread throughout her. Feeling weak and drained, she slumped in her seat. She didn’t cry though. Lena was never one to cry._

 

_“Have you told Sam? Does mom know?”_

 

_“Sam does. It’s going to be hard on mom though. Do you promise though?”_

 

_She swallowed thickly and nodded her head, reaching up to cover her brothers nicked and scarred hand with her own, sadness blooming in her chest as she hoarsely replied. “I promise.”_

 

-

 

            The following evening, as the shadows started to lengthen and the day came to a close, Lena removed herself from the bow of the boat into the small galley to cook herself dinner, keeping the door open to the evening. The sky was a lovely deep purple, the canopy of trees dark against the richness of dusk. Crickets quietly chirped outside and moonlight danced on the water in wavering ribbons. It was gentle and quiet, and Lena felt a lump wedge itself in her throat. It should’ve felt peaceful, perfect, yet she couldn’t bring herself to enjoy it as it deserved to be enjoyed.

 

            She was wallowing over a saucepan of tomato soup, straight from the can, when she heard a soft shout. Brow furrowing, Lena turned down the heat on the stovetop, walked over to the cupboard hiding the record player and turned Fleetwood Mac down, until it was barely audible as anything more than a murmur, and walked over to the open door to stick her head out. The cottage was well lit, yellow light spilling out of the windows and casting a strange colour over the violet evening.

 

_“Éire!”_

 

            At the quiet shout, she stepped out onto the deck, her footsteps quiet, and hauled herself up the rusted rungs to peer over the lip of the roof. Her dark expression smoothed out at the sight of a blurred shadow standing on the bridge, leaning on the moss-covered stone with a box beside her. Even with the impending night leaching the colours out of everything, she would’ve known it was Kara.

 

            “Hi,” Lena quietly called along the length of the roof.

 

            “I, uh, I have something for you. You left without saying goodbye yesterday and you didn’t come in today.”

 

            Eyebrows rising, Lena lifted herself up to the next rung, revealing more than her dark eyes peering at Kara, and she felt sheepish at the realisation that she _had_ just left. Ordinarily, that wouldn’t be a problem. You ate somewhere and you paid the first staff member you crossed paths with. But fixing a chicken coop and sitting in a quiet corner after the place had closed tended to change things somewhat. She wouldn’t say her and Kara were friends, exactly, but Lena wasn’t quite just a customer either. They had a strange arrangement that neither of them had intended to unfold as it did, yet here they were.

 

            “Oh. Would you like to come in?”

 

            “Oh, uh, if you don’t mind,” Kara hedged.

 

            Quietly chuckling, Lena smiled slightly, a faint dimple in her cheek. “I wouldn’t have asked if I did.”

 

            And she found that she meant it. She _wanted_ to invite Kara into her scruffy boat, with its scuffed paint and deep alder wood that glowed warmly in the firelight spilt out of the wood burner. Not for any reason that she could put her finger on, but it just seemed like the polite thing to do when someone showed up on a bridge at dusk, bearing gifts and seeking you out after leaving without saying goodbye. 

 

            “Be careful,” Lena murmured, her eyes watchful as she took in the shadowed leg swinging over the wall, followed by the rest of Kara’s lithe body.

 

            Picking her box up off the wall, the contents rattling loudly inside, Kara slowly made her way across the rooftop, sure-footed and quiet, and Lena climbed off the rungs of the ladder as she neared her. Rubbing rust-covered hands on her jeans, Lena ran a hand through her hair and waited patiently. A silhouette appeared overhead, backlit by the purple sky and the first smattering of stars peeking past wisps of clouds.

 

            “Would you mind?” Kara asked, holding the box over the edge as she knelt on the lip of the roof.

 

            Reaching up, Lena’s cold fingers gently grazed Kara’s as she took the box off her and stepped away, watching her scuttle down the rungs with ease before she stared down at her orange palms and dusted them off with a smile. She took the box back off Lena as they crowded the small deck as the last rays of sunlight cut across their faces. The April dusk turned her eyes indigo.

 

            Stepping in through the door, boots squeaking on the polish floorboards, Lena quickly stirred the soup simmering on the stovetop and gave Kara a sheepish smile as the blonde woman ducked inside, looking even taller in the narrow space.

 

            “Oh, you were having dinner. Sorry.”

 

            “It’s nothing,” Lena quickly waved her concerns aside. “Have you eaten yet? It’s not much- I mean, it’s tomato soup … but if you’re hungry …”

 

            Blinking in surprise, Kara paused for a moment, eyebrows rising slightly, and she gave Lena a bright smile. “Sure. I could eat.”

 

            Nodding, Lena opened the cupboard and pulled out another can, before gesturing towards the booth. “You can sit down if you want.”

 

            Opening the tin, she upended the contents into the pot and stirred it through, leaving it to heat up as she hesitantly followed after Kara, who was leaning against the edge of the booth table, cradling the box in her arms as she eyed the collection of clocks keeping time on the bench across from her. Glancing at Lena, she gave her a smile.

 

            “You weren’t kidding about those clocks, huh?”

 

            Hurriedly swiping an assortment of tools and pieces over to the wall, she cleared a small area of space on the tabletop and cracked green seats of the booths and gestured for Kara to sit. Shrugging self-consciously, Lena let out a nervous laugh as she rubbed the back of her neck, “Sorry, it’s … a bit cramped.”

 

            “I’ve never been inside a boat like this before,” Kara mused as she slowly took a seat, neck-craning as she looked around the wooden interior. “It’s cosy.”

 

            “Yeah. Can I get you a drink?”

 

            Blinking herself back to Lena, Kara gave her a bright smile and reached into the box in front of her. She pulled out a tall, green glass bottle and set it purposefully on the wooden table, gesturing to it with delight.

 

            “Ah, I actually brought a drink for _you._ It’s cider. I made it myself last autumn from the last of the apples in the grove. I wasn’t sure if you preferred this or wine, so I took a guess, but I can change it if you-”

 

            “That’s very generous of you,” Lena quietly interrupted, reaching out for the bottle and peering down at the label slapped onto the front. It was one of the bottles that Kara sold inside her teahouse.

 

            “I wanted to thank you. For the fence.”

 

            Lips twitching in the ghost of a smile, Lena gave her a tender look, “you already thanked me.”

 

            Shrugging, Kara turned to the box in front of her, clamping her hands down on either side of it as she pressed her lips into a flat line. “Well, there’s also this.”

 

            She offered the box up to Lena, who tucked the bottle of cider under her arm and accepted it, looking down at the contents with interest, and then amusement as she realised what it was. Inside, rattling around, was an assortment of dull gears and cogs, screws and bolts and pivots and weights. Parts for clocks. Looking back up at Kara, Lena cocked her head to the side.

 

            “Clock parts?”

 

            "I remember you said you were looking for some, and my attic is bursting with a load of old junk. It all came with the place because it’s mostly broken. I didn’t have the heart to throw it all away, but I thought you might be able to use some of it.”

 

            A slow smile spread across Lena’s face, the biggest smile she’d sported in months, and her eyes creased slightly at the corners as a warmth spread through her chest for a brief moment. Setting the box down on top of a precariously balanced clock, Lena hefted the bottle of cider in her hand and ran a hand through her hair.

 

            “Thank you. Really.”

 

            “It’s nothing.”

 

            “Cider?”

 

            At Kara’s nod, she walked over to the high cupboards and pulled out her one glass and rinsed out her enamel mug she’d been drinking tea out of, before filling them both with cloudy apple cider and giving the soup a stir. Carrying the drinks to the table, she set the glass down in front of Kara and the mug down opposite.

 

            In a few short minutes of relative quiet, the faint sounds of _Go Your Own Way_ drifting from the cupboard with the old record playing, Lena set a bowl of soup down in front of Kara and took a seat opposite her. Giving her a shy smile, Kara picked up her spoon. Lena took a sip of her cider. It was sharp and fresh, just sweet enough to take the edge off the tartness of the apples, and she found herself surprised.

 

            “You actually made this?”

 

            Eyes crinkling, Kara happily nodded as she reached for a slice of thick bread Lena had bought from her the other day. “Mhm. It took some trial and error. I like using every part of an ingredient if I can, so after making apple sauce or pies, or taking the bruised ones from later on in the year, I started making cider from the scraps. Same with cherry or blackberry wines with whichever berries I didn’t use for jam. It’s very sustainable.”

 

            “Hm,” Lena mused, scooping up some soup as she pursed her lips slightly, “is there much of a market for that around here?”

 

            Eagerly nodding, Kara’s face lit up. “Oh, sure. Most of the tourists through this way end up on my doorstep. A lot of them like the homemade idea. Jack - you remember Jack, right? The fruit and veg guy in town? - he goes to a lot of farmer’s markets too, so he takes my wares for me. I’m usually too busy to go.”

 

            “Do you ever have a day off?” Lena quietly laughed.

 

            Rolling her eyes, Kara gave her a wry smile, “I happen to like what I do. But yes. Imra’s girlfriend works a few days a week. Perhaps you’ve seen her. Blonde? Looks a but grumpy.”

 

            Lena shrugged, having the vague recollection of seeing her in the teahouse once or twice. They ate the steaming soup as they made hesitant conversation, both of them struck by the unusualness of the evening. Lena couldn’t remember the last time she’d ever had dinner with another person who wasn’t family, and Kara seemed to find the presence of a new person in her life refreshing. It must’ve gotten lonely sometimes, with everyone passing through and only a few people staying.

 

            Once they’d finished eating, bowls empty and spoons clattering against the sides, Lena refilled their cups and they sat across from each other, knees occasionally knocking under the table, and in the warmth radiating from the fire, Lena felt shy.

 

            “Thank you,” Kara murmured as she picked up her glass. “I can’t remember the last time someone cooked for me outside of a restaurant.”

 

            Letting out a snort of laughter, Lena arched an eyebrow. “Well, I’m not sure a can of soup really counts.”

 

            “It does to _me._ I spend every day cooking up something, so if I didn’t do it myself, it counts.”

 

            “Well … you’re welcome then. I don’t think I’ve ever cooked for anyone before either.”

 

            “Not even for your ex?”

 

            A flicker of pain ran across Lena’s face as she stiffened in her seat, hands tightening around her mug of cider, and she quickly looked down at the cloudy drink to hide her face. Still, she could feel her cheeks redden and she gruffly cleared her throat.

 

            “No, I- she wasn’t … that’s the thing. We were never _together._ She was never mine, but it still- it still broke my heart to lose her.” 

 

            “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

 

            Waving a hand dismissively, Lena then ran it over her tired face, shaking her head as exhaustion slammed into her and her heart weighed heavily in her chest. “It’s fine. I just … I haven’t spoken about it since it happened. And I don’t think I _can_ , because how ridiculous is it, being in love with someone you didn’t even date, and heartbroken that they chose someone else.”

 

            “Not ridiculous at all.”

 

            Giving Kara a wry smile, full of bitterness and only slightly condescending, Lena closed her eyes and slowly breathed out, her taut shoulders going slack as the tension bled out of her. She seemed small and deflated, curled in over her cider as she wrestled with the pit that yawned open wide inside her. It had been better that day, a little bit less tender and sore to poke around the edges of it, but not now. Not when it was spilling out of her, and she found herself unable to stop the torrent of words coming out of her mouth, not when Kara was so understanding - she really _did_ understand, in some respects.

 

            “Ah,” Lena said, choking on a soft laugh, _“but_ she’s the mother of my niece. Not my sister-in-law, but my brother did get her pregnant after a night out. It all just … got a bit messed up along the way.”

 

            “Oh. So your brother doesn’t-”

 

            “He’s dead. Three months before his daughter was born.”

 

            “Lena.”

 

            The way she said her name was so soft, so gentle, full of sympathy, and Lena set her cup down and abruptly shot to her feet. Quickly stacking bowls on top of the empty bread plate, spoons rattling, she walked into the kitchen and set them in the sink. Bracing herself against the edge of the unit, she took a deep breath and then strode back over to the table and sat back down. Her eyes were bone dry but her face was hard and her lips were curled up into a strained smile.

 

            “And then she picked someone else, and here I am,” she said, clapping her hands together. “Stuck on a river in the middle of nowhere, fixing clocks and wallowing while my mother’s probably wondering where I ran off to.”

 

            A stricken look on her face, Kara sat there, hands curled into fists on top of the table, her drink forgotten about as she looked at Lena with wide blue eyes. The amber light reflecting off the polished wooden interior made the wisps of hair around her face shine like burnished gold and brass, and her eyebrows upturned just above the bridge of her nose, forehead wrinkling with concern. She was speechless for a few moments.

 

            “I have a clock.”

 

            “Oh?”

 

            “It’s broken. You can have it if you like.”

 

            Snorting with laughing, Lena drained her cider and set the mug down, rolling it between her palms as she brooded for a moment.

 

            “How about I fix it for you?” Lena offered, glancing up and raising her eyebrows in question.

 

            “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

 

            “You’re not.”

 

            Pulling a pair of glasses out of her pocket, Kara put them on, blinked a few times, and then smiled endearingly as she focused on Lena. Climbing to her feet, she pulled on a thin navy jacket, and Lena rose to her feet as well. Standing so close that Lena would’ve had to take but one step forward to find herself inches from Kara, they both hovered in the narrow passage down the middle of the boat, and Kara let out a shy laugh as she brushed a lock of blonde hair out of her face.

 

            “How about a deal. Sometime next week, you can come and fix my clock, and I’ll cook _you_ dinner and tell you about my shitty ex and his lovely ex-wife and my family, and we’ll call it even.”

 

            Gently biting her bottom lip, Lena narrowed her eyes slightly, staring intently at Kara. The blonde woman stood there, tall and patient, blue eyes kind, a pale eyebrow cocked expectantly as she buried her hands in her coat pocket and rocked slightly on her heels. A slow smile spread across Kara’s face, grinning widely as she waited for Lena to answer.

 

            Finally, Lena let out a sigh of laughter, shaking her head as she smiled slightly and a frown furrowed her brow. “Okay! Okay. It’s a deal.”

 

            “Great.”

 

            “Great.”

 

            “Well, I’ll let you get on with things,” Kara said, turning and moving towards the door as Lena followed after her.

 

            Stepping out into the night, Kara paused for a moment and breathed in the fresh air and watched the water sparkle in the moonlight, while Lena leant against the doorframe and watched her with open interest. She’d never met someone who seemed so at ease in the world, so unhurried, just ambling along and stopping to appreciate the little moments. Lena couldn’t help but admire her for it, especially knowing that Kara had known sadness. Instead of turning her into the bitter, lonely person it had made Lena into, it had turned her kind and patient. 

 

            A lump wedged itself in Lena’s throat as she watched, and she suddenly found herself wishing she could be like Kara. She wished that she could shed her grief, mend her heart, and find the truest version of herself somewhere far away where nobody knew her, where nobody pitied her for her past and she could just _be._ It suddenly struck her that this could be the place, maybe in another life, and sadness struck deep in her heart at the fact that Lena wouldn’t find that version of herself anywhere. Not while she was gripped so tightly in the hands of her misery, filling her with its emptiness and extinguishing the flickers of hope that had the courage to live deep inside her.

 

            Turning to look at her, Kara smiled, her eyes bright behind the lens of her glasses, and Lena found herself smiling back sadly. Stuck in her feelings, she wished she could look at Kara and not be reminded of Sam. They looked nothing alike, but there were so many things about them both that were so similar that it hurt be reminded of them. Both quick to smile, both quick to laugh and _so_ warm that just being with them was enough for the warmth to heat you all the way through. And Lena wished she could feel even an ounce of the love she felt for Sam for Kara, because she would’ve been good to love. She would’ve been safe and gentle with her feelings. 

 

            But Lena felt nothing, and she knew that she was being selfish in wishing something so self-serving of Kara, who was nothing but kind and deserved to be loved completely and utterly by someone deserving of her. Really, what Lena wanted was for the emptiness inside her to go away. But the only thing she imagined worse that crushing sadness was feeling nothing at all. She’d felt that way at the beginning of her trip, and it had abated to pain and devastated and heartbreak, and she knew how consuming that nothingness could be. It still threatened to swallow her up every now and then, on particularly bad days over the past few weeks, and she was trying. She was trying so hard to keep herself afloat.

 

            “Let me know which night is best for you,” she eventually murmured.

 

            “Okay,” Kara softly said. “Goodnight, Éire.”

 

            “Goodnight.”

 

            Watching Kara scuttle up the squeaking ladder, Lena lingered in the doorway, a rectangle of light illuminating the back of the boat, and she listened to quiet footsteps cross the roof, waiting until she saw a dark figure hurrying across the lawn, shoulders hunched against the cold spring night. Waiting until she saw Kara step into the cottage, the quiet sound of the door shutting behind her drifting across the water, Lena waited and then made her way inside, locking the door behind her and finding herself tired. Her eyelids were heavy from the cider and she was comfortably warm with the fire going.

 

            Quietly washing the dishes, she made herself some tea, rinsing out the chipped enamel mug, slipped on a bulky sweatshirt and thick socks, and then sat down with her box of new parts off Kara. One by one, she pulled an assortment of pieces out, using a rag and some oil to work the grime and rust off salvageable parts and neatly lining them up alongside her other parts. She occasionally paused and squinted at words and numbers etched into the parts, finding some of them so old that they must’ve been at the cottage when it had first been built as a farmhouse. 

 

            Drinking her tea, Lena stayed there late into the night, until her fingers were covered in oil and she couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore. She ended up falling asleep at the table, legs folded beneath her and arms crossed on top of the scarred wood, head gracefully bowed down on top as she clutched a screwdriver in her hand and clocks ticked in sync.


	10. Chapter 10

_ The swallow is come! _ _   
_ _ The swallow is come! _ _   
_ _ O, fair are the seasons, and light _ _   
_ _ Are the days that she brings, _ _   
_ _ With her dusky wings, _ _   
_ __ And her bosom snowy white!

 

_ \- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Hyperion (1839), Book II, Chapter I. _

 

_ - _

 

            The following Wednesday, after a particularly quiet any lonely week, Lena found herself walking across the cobblestoned bridge, her leather roll of tools tucked under her arm, a bag in hand and an eagerness to her step. She’d spent a few days alone, finding the silence deafening after her infrequent run-ins with Kara, and it had almost been a relief to bump into her yesterday afternoon on her way back from a walk. After days of not talking to anyone, it was enough for Lena to have been dragged back into her spiral of self-pity and despair. The invitation for dinner this evening had been a welcome one.

 

            Yet as she crossed the bridge, something dark flitted across the blue sky, swooping down through the air and lurching up into the darkness of the trees as it settled down on the branch of a nearby elm. Mouth dry and heart hammering in her chest, Lena turned away from the cottage and drifted towards the tree set off to the left of the narrow dirt track leading into the hamlet, a stunned look on her face. Lips parted, green eyes wide and a look of wonder in her eyes, she moved like she was in a dream, as if she had no control over her own limbs.

 

            Enchanted, she was reeled in, all the way to the dappled shadows the bowed tree branches cast on the muddy path. Looking up, Lena took in the sight of the tiny bird, head twitching and beady eyes liquid and dark in the shadows at it glanced around everywhere. In the green and brown light beneath the trees, it looked black, but she knew its wings would be deep blue. The snowy crest of its chest was luminescent in the filtered light though, and it was unmistakable. She didn’t need her bird watching book to identify this one.

 

            It was a swallow. The first swallow of the season, and the sight of it opened something raw and painful in her chest. Hand trembling, Lena pressed it to her chest as the air rushed out of her lungs, a weakness rushing through her body as her knees felt like they were going to give out from beneath her. As the bird let out a small chirp, it took to its wings and was gone before Lena could blink. Reaching out, she all but fell forward as she stumbled towards the rough, moss-covered bark of the tree, her palm bracing her against the sturdy elm as her shoulders hunched and she felt overcome with too many emotions to make sense of. 

 

            The bark was rough beneath her fingertips, the moss velvety and damp, and she breathed in the dank, rotting smell of the woods, finding it comforting. It grounded her, the rich smell of soil and foliage strong in the air and reminding her of where she was, what had happened. Her chest hurt, her dry eyes burned with the inability to cry, to form any tears at all, and she felt washed out and faint. Turning, she fell back against the trunk, let her leather satchel spill to the floor and unfurl across the weeds, revealing orderly, shining tools, and the plastic bag thump heavily to the ground before she sank down to meet them.

 

            Sitting on the ground, the damp and cold seeping into the bottom edge of her coat, Lena stayed there until her hands stopped shaking and her heart stopped pounding, sitting just in sight of the ivy-covered cottage, where she could occasionally see a shadowy figure moving behind the warped old window panes, peeking out from behind the sprouting of green. 

 

            Eventually, she knelt in the dirt, tightly rolled the satchel back up with practised ease and shoved the oiled leather back under her arm and climbed to her feet. Feeling hollowed out, almost as if with hunger, although she knew a good meal wasn’t the fix she needed, Lena continued her walk towards the teahouse.

 

            It was a little after lunch, full to the brim with workers, mothers and tourists, the gentle wash of conversation bringing her back to the presence. The blonde woman was there this time, adding another log to the low-burning fire, and Lena gave her a quick nod, before crossing the room and craning her neck to try and get a glimpse of Kara through the open archway behind the display cabinet.

 

            The chef was shaking a frying pan over the massive stove, flames burning high as she leant back, before she stirred a pot, flipping an egg and turned back around to the large mixing bowl on the island counter. As she picked up a wooden spoon, she spotted Lena and raised her hand as she smiled.

 

            “Hi! Give me a second.”

 

            Nodding, Lena stepped off to one side, observing the selections of preserves neatly stacked on a row of shelves along the walls. When the blonde waitress walked past her with empty plates, they politely nodded to each other, and Lena glanced around the packed room, watching the easy way that the customers laughed, polishing off cakes and coffee, chatting animatedly while their children made a mess of their snacks.

 

            “Gayle, would you mind taking this to the gentleman sitting by himself over there? Thanks,” Kara said as Lena turned, watching her hand over a plate holding the contents of a full English breakfast to the blonde waitress.

 

            Hands free, Kara wiped them on her apron and shyly walked over to Lena, her blue eyes warm, although a little uncertain. She took in Lena’s wan expression and demure stature and cocked her head to the side as her brow wrinkled ever so slightly.

 

            “Is everything alright?”

 

            “I just saw a swallow,” Lena said, her voice bemused and mildly incredulous as she raised her eyebrows slightly and swallowed thickly.

 

            Quietly laughing, Kara’s expression brightened. “A swallow? Really? That must be the first of the year! It’s warming up; summer won’t be too far away. You should see the place in July - there are  _ hundreds  _ of them. The name’s not a joke. They like to roost in the ivy, and in the old boat shed.”

 

            Lena made a disconcerting sound, a troubled look crossing her face. The bird had reminded her of Sam, of the tattoo on her wrist and her fascination with the little birds and their symbolism. It was supposed to mean home. That a person had travelled far and made it back. Yet, Lena felt out of place and not at all at home as she was struck with painful memories. Her hand subconsciously drifted towards the necklace hidden beneath the neck of her deep green sweater.

 

            “So, um, the clock’s upstairs.”

 

            “Great,” Lena said, giving her a faint smile.

 

            Turning around. Kara made for the door that held the small bathroom and the narrow staircase, and Lena followed behind her. Their footsteps were loud on the stairs in the cramped space, and as she lingered just below the top step, she spotted two doors opposite each other. Kara opened the one on the right with a key from her pocket, roughly jerking it open as the hinges protested slightly with a creak, and sunlight spilt out into the stairwell and brightened the dim space. Stepping inside, Kara waited just inside the door, hand on the tarnished doorknob, and gestured for Lena to enter.

 

            It was all open plan, dark beams stretching the length of the large space, pockmarked walls plastered and whitewashed with a layer of paint. Old floorboards creaked as she stepped on them, some warped in places and pools of amber light coalescing on the warm wood as it streaked in through the windows, the muntins separating the square panes and casting odd shadows. 

 

            Kitchen cabinets lined the wall to her right, painted white with light wooden countertops crowded with cookbooks and kitchen utensils. A circular table with four mismatched chairs sat close to the middle of the room, an old wrought-iron coat stand just off to her left, hung with heavy coats and a collection of boots hidden in the shadows of their hems. The foot of a bed was visible behind an exquisitely hand-crafted folding screen of mirrored glass speckled black with age and a gilt fir frame. Lena had to stop herself from going to inspect it. It had a distinctly French air about it, with the artistic detail edging each mirror and the frontons on top. 

 

            An old writing desk with a matching chair were set beneath a window at the opposite end of the bed, holding a collection of plant pots and an old emeralite lamp, the green glass shade dark as it was held up by a brass stand. Midway along the wall to Lena’s left, bizarrely, an old claw-foot bathtub stood on gold feet, black enamelled on the outside and porcelain on the inside, old gold taps arching up over the edge of it. With amusement, Lena realised it was full to the brim with books. Old paperbacks, newer trashy novels, leatherbound classics, atlases and poetry books. 

 

            Back to the bathtub stood a Chesterfield armchair, upholstered in warm tanned leather, the arms and back the same height and the leather bulleted with brass studs. A low coffee table sat in front of it, weighed down heavily beneath a crate of wine with a cat sleeping on top. Tucked away beside a door that Lena assumed led through to the bathroom, an upright piano stood, yellowed ivory and worn ebony keys uncovered, with a range of plants, lined up on top. Some spilt over out the pots, vines trailing down to meet the keys, and others bloomed brightly with new flowers. 

 

            “Sorry, I know it’s a bit … disorganised,” Kara sheepishly said.

 

            “Is that a  _ Crane?” _ Lena asked, pointing towards the bathtub, eyeing the roll rims of it and the weathered enamel. It looked old.

 

            Eyebrows rising slightly, Kara followed her line of sight and tilted her head to the side. “What, the bath? It came with the place. I didn’t have the heart to tear it out; the previous owners didn’t either, apparently. Why?”

 

            “They’re incredibly rare to find in this condition. And very valuable. They were one of the first manufacturers of clawfoot bathtubs back in the nineteenth- anyway, I just … like antiques, I guess.”

 

            “Oh, well, I never really asked. A lot of this was left behind. The attic and the guest room are practically overflowing with it all, but I didn’t want to just toss it in the trash, you know? It seemed like a waste. I quite like it.”

 

            Lena nodded, glancing around again. The clock was standing in the middle of the room and had been a part of her initial once-over, but she was more interested in Kara than the clock at the moment. It wasn’t so much strange to be inside her living space, but it felt so quintessentially  _ her _ that Lena couldn’t help but look around and take in the things that just felt right being in Kara’s home. She’d never so much as mentioned whether or not she played the piano, but the fact that there was an upright sitting in her corner just seemed right.

 

            “Right, well, the clock,” Kara said, gesturing grandly towards the tall clock standing in the middle of the room.

 

            Walking over to it with a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth, wondering if Kara had lugged it down from the attic by herself, Lena stopped in front of it. It was taller than her, made from mahogany, worn and scratched with age, with satinwood crossbanding, boxwood and ebony line inlay around the clock face and bronze inlay on the body of the case. A glass door revealed the pendulum and three weights. 

 

            With a closer look beyond the scrolled gilt arms of the clock, Lena took in the black roman numerals and the date mechanism on the ivory face. It had  _ J. Dunbar  _ written on one side and  _ Perth _ on the other in elegant script. The hands were still, and Lena felt a flicker of excitement come to life at the challenge of fixing it.

 

            “It’s a Dunbar,” Lena said over her shoulder, her eyes fixed on the paintings delicately framing the round clock face. “Made in Scotland. He was quite a famous maker there; I’ve bought and sold a few of his over the years. It’s roughly two centuries old. It’d make you quite a bit of money if you ever wanted to sell it.”

 

            “Really?” Kara asked, her voice coloured with surprise.

 

            Turning around, Lena gave her a slight smile, “if I can fix it.”

 

            Kara shrugged helplessly and gave her a smile, “well, no harm done if you can’t, right? I just thought you might like something to keep your hands busy while you’re stuck here.”

 

            Lena’s smile grew slightly, and her expression softened at the thoughtfulness. “It doesn’t look too damaged from the outside, so it hasn’t been badly dropped at any rate. It might just be a build-up of dust and rust inside. Should be no trouble at all.”

 

            “Great. I’ll, um, I’ll leave you to it then,” she said, tucking a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. 

 

            She wasn’t wearing her glasses and her eyes were narrowed slightly, and more so as she smiled and lines radiated out from the corners. Pushing a sleeve of her pink shirt further up her arm, she hesitated for a moment, as if looking for something else to say, a reason to hover just a little bit longer. Her face brightened a moment later.

 

            “The bathroom is just through that door,” Kara added, jerking a thumb to the door over her left shoulder. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

 

            Nodding, Lena gave her a small smile, before turning her attention to the clock and listening as the floor squeaked beneath Kara’s heavy footsteps and the door stiffly squeaked on its hinges and shut behind her. Setting her bag down on the floor and unfurling the roll of leather, Lena shed her coat, moved to hang it up on the coat stand near the door, and pushed the sleeves of her sweater up.

 

            It was comfortably warm inside the spacious apartment, the windows already open on both sides, letting a stream of fresh spring air in as the gauzy white curtains fluttered in the breeze. Streaky didn’t move as Lena walked back over to the clock, although his whiskers twitched slightly and his fur was dappled in the sunshine spilling in through the overhanging ivy.

 

            Eyeing the towering clock for a moment, she reached up and gently gripped the hood encasing the clock face, one hand keeping the glass door shut as she gave it a weak tug forward. It moved slightly, and with a little more force she slowly pulled it towards her, until she held the wooden hood in her hands. Carefully easing it down to the floor, she crouched down beside it and checked the hinges of the door, the wooden frame holding the glass safely inside with no broken edges, and only a few shallow scuffs that stripping and revarnishing could easily fix.

 

            Straightening back up, Lena tried to peer up into the interior mechanism and frowned as she found herself too short. Ordinarily, she’d use a footstool in her workshop, but Kara didn’t have one around and it felt rude to use one of the dining chairs without asking first. 

 

            Quickly making her way downstairs, the hinges grating on her nerves as the squeaked open and closed, Lena poked her head into the kitchen and was making her way back upstairs a few minutes later, back in through the squeaky door she’d left propped open, with a wooden crate in her arms that Kara’s fruit and vegetables got delivered in.

 

            Setting it down on the floor, she stood on the base of it, satisfied that it was sturdy enough to hold her weight, and she looked at the tarnished brass mechanism. The bell rang dully as she tapped it where it hung above the rest of the gears and pivots, and then she pursed her lips as she eyed where the clockworks were bolted to the saddle board base that the clock face and wooden back were attached to. She could see the cords the three weights hung on snaking up to hang off the drums and the spring at the top of the pendulum. 

 

            Reaching down for the bag, she pulled out a roll of tape, using her teeth to tear off three pieces, and taped the brass cables of the weight cords into place so they didn’t move while she was fiddling around inside the clockwork. Stepping off the crate, she rounded the clock to stand in front of it and opened the glass door to reveal the heavy weights. Slowly, she removed all three of them, neatly lining them up on the floor, rubbing her finger over the layer of grime and rust. Adjusting her crate so that it gave her the reach she needed to hold the pendulum inside the body of the clock, she raised the pendulum out of the crutch near the top of the mechanism and freed it from its hook, settling it down inside the body.

 

            With the weights and pendulum free of the saddle board, Lena lifted the whole clock face and internal mechanism away from the body, holding it delicately in her small hands, before she carried it over to the table and set it down carefully on the edge of the table, cables spilling over the side. Fetching her satchel and bag of tools, she spread her coat out on the surface to protect the wood and sat down on a chair.

 

            She’d just undone the clock hands and removed the painted face when the door screeched open, setting her teeth on edge, and she glanced over her shoulder to find Kara sheepishly entering with a cup of coffee in hand, whispering an apology as she disturbed Lena. Giving her a bemused look at the fact that Kara felt the need to apologise in her own home, Lena pushed her chair slightly away from the table, setting the gilt clock hands down on her coat, and gave her a small smile.

 

            “I thought you might like some coffee,” Kara said by way of explanation, raising the mug slightly, before setting it down on the far side of the table, where it wouldn’t get knocked over.

 

            “Thank you.”

 

            “No problem. Call me if you need me.”

 

            She left with another screeching of hinges, and Lena admired the way that she didn’t hover and ask a million questions, breathing down her neck as she worked. It was like Kara appreciated her need for silence and to just immerse herself in her work, which was something too many people didn’t understand. They might’ve thought clockwork was boring, but it never stopped them from interrupting her while she worked. 

 

            In between sips of coffee, Lena dismantled the internal mechanism, laying cogs beside gears, pivots lined up by size, the brass bell letting out a morose note as it thumped down on her coat. The smell of old oil, varnished wood and dust tickled her nose, and Lena worked in silence as she pulled it apart. The apartment was quiet, and she was left alone with her thoughts, hands working a screwdriver with practised ease as she thought about the swallows and tried to push a dozen facts to the back of her mind. 

 

            They weren’t her facts, they were ones whispered to her in the dark, or said in the sweltering summer from the garden, memories of another woman’s voice imparting the trivial facts onto her with warm brown eyes and a quick smile. She’d never quite understood Sam’s fascination with the common birds, but she’d loved her for it all the same.

 

            Pulling out a can of oil and a stained oilskin, she popped the lid off and dipped the rag into it, picking up the nearest part and dutifully started wiping grime and rust off of the metal. It was slow work, with each protrusion of the gear needing to be properly cleaned, as well as in between, and her fingertips were soon stained as the metal slowly started to reveal itself underneath. 

 

            The parts were in relatively good shape, with only a few slightly bent out of shape or rusted badly enough to warrant her filing it off before she shined it up. By the time Kara came upstairs again, the door squeaking open, she was nearly halfway through the disassembled pieces, her head slowly rising at the grating sound, before she turned and looked over her shoulder. Stepping into the apartment with her apron balled up in her hand, Kara rolled her eyes and gave Lena an exasperated look, a large coffee stain soaking through the fabric of her pink shirt.

 

            “I’m a complete klutz,” she said as she breezed past.

 

            Lena raised her eyebrows slightly, her eyes trailing Kara across the room and round the speckled mirrored screen as she silently perched on her chair. Reaching for her lukewarm coffee, Lena took a sip, listening to the sound of a wooden drawer being opened and the rustling sound of cloth.

 

            She re-emerged from behind the screen a few minutes later, wearing a sky blue shirt that made her eyes seem positively cerulean, and she gave Lena an exasperated smile as she tied a clean apron around her waist and knotted it in front. 

 

            “If you need anything, just help yourself,” Kara told her as she lingered for a moment, gesturing towards the kitchen. “Tea and coffee are in the cupboard. I think there are a few blueberry muffins in there too.”

 

            “Okay, thank you.”

 

            With a small nod, she left again, and as the door squeaked again, Lena closed her eyes, breathed in deeply and sighed, before climbing to her feet with her oilskin in hand. Dipping it into the can on oil, she quickly walked over to the door, scowling with irritation and angrily scrubbed at the hinges, soaking them in oil and rubbing away rust and a buildup of dirt caught in the creases. 

 

            Opening the door, with a quieter squeak that made her tense shoulders go slack, she stepped out into the stairwell and furiously scrubbed at the hinges as the door was opened inwards. When she was satisfied that it had been properly lubricated, she swung the door partly shut, and spent a few moments jerking it back and forth. Remarkably quieter, she nodded to herself and walked back in, shutting the door behind her with barely a sound, and seated herself back down at the table. 

 

            The beams of sunlight shifted as she worked, hammering bent parts gently into shape, slowly easing pivots through the centre of gears, until they were all lined up neatly, and she was interrupted by Streaky stretching on the coffee table, back curving as the stray yawned and let out a quiet sound, before jumping down and walking over to a bowl of water laid out for him. Lena quietly laughed as she shook her head. Bowls of food and water laid out for a stray cat that was given free run of the old cottage was the least surprising thing about the place, in Lena’s opinion.

 

            With the clock mechanism assembled back together, she left it sitting on the edge of the table and knelt in front of the large body. Rummaging in her bag, she came up with a tin of varnish stripping liquid, a wad of steel wool and selected a scraping tool from her satchel. Taking a stained, folded square of fabric, she shook it out, watching as it floated for a moment, ballooning in the middle before she set it down on the old floorboards and weighed down the corners with heavy tools at hand.

 

            Shifting the clock with a bit of cursing and effort, Lena managed to get it onto the cloth, and pried open the lid of the stripper with a flathead screwdriver. With a paintbrush, she soaked coarse bristles and started to slather the stripper over the scarred mahogany, watching as it bubbled and wrinkled the layer of yellowed varnish. Once she’d covered the entire clock, stepping onto the crate to reach the higher places, she took the scraper and began to work it all off. It came easily, softened by the stripper, yet it was still time-consuming, and she had to work at the finely carved details with a scrubbing brush. 

 

            Still, Lena had learnt how to do it as a child, and had finely honed her skill over the years, and was able to work quickly, yellowed curls of old varnish dropping to the cloth she’d spread out on the floor until the case stood bare and nicked with old scars. With a piece of sandpaper, she worked at the scratches, following the woodgrain, until the wood had been stripped back and smooth, before taking a rag dampened with sharp smelling turpentine, and rinsed away the lingering varnish stripper. 

 

            By the time the fading sunlight was coming through at an angle that was barely enough to illuminate the apartment, dusk settling in with bold strokes of pink and orange painted across the sky, Lena had just finished sanding out the scratches and nicks of the hood and removed the yellowed lacquer from the clock face, revealing gleaming ivory beneath the yellowed layer of age it had accumulated. Getting ready to paint it with new varnish, she was shaking the tin when footsteps stomped up the staircase and Kara came in.

 

            Apron in hand, she came in with an open smile on her face, which quickly dropped into a frown as she took a step back, doorknob in hand, and then forward again. Jiggling it back and forth in hand, she cocked her head to the side and looked at the door with bewilderment. Lena had her back to her, prying the lid off the varnish as she hunched in front of the clock in the gloom, and didn’t see her confusion.

 

            “What happened to the door?”

 

            Glancing over her shoulder, Lena gave her a look of amusement as Kara flipped a light switch and bathed the room in a rich amber glow from the old chandelier dangling from the middle of the room.

 

            “I oiled it.”

 

            “Oh. You didn’t have to do that,” Kara said, her voice soft and full of surprise.

 

            Letting out a short laugh, Lena raised her eyebrows slightly, “honestly, it was getting on  _ my _ nerves, and I don’t live here.”

 

            Cheeks warming as she stepped inside, nudging the door shut with the heel of her boot as she wrung her apron in her hands, Kara laughed, ducking her head slightly as blonde hair spilt around her face, escaping its low ponytail. 

 

            “Well, thank you. The place is a bit old and I’m not, well, I’m a chef, not a handyman.”

 

            Climbing to her feet and dusting off her hands, Lena shrugged and gave her a small smile. “Well, if there are any more door hinges you need oiled, or a wobbly chair, just let me know.”

 

            Kara nodded, before drifting closer, a look of interest in her eyes as she glanced at the clock. It was still in parts, but Kara looked impressed by the work Lena had done so far, and her eyes travelled over the mess of tools and spirals of stripped varnish with curiosity.

 

            “I, uh, I just have to varnish it again and it should be good to go,” Lena explained, fiddling with her grease-stained hands as she shifted in front of Kara. “The clock should run perfectly once it’s wound, but … we’ll see. Nothing was majorly out of place.”

 

            “Oh, good.”

 

            Hovering for a few moments, bending down to scratch the stray cat that padded over for attention, Kara stared at the clock and then nodded.

 

            “Well, I’m going to get started on dinner. Can I get you anything? Are you hungry? Did you eat?”

 

            Her expression turned anxious at the thought, and Lena assured her that she was fine, although hunger  _ was _ starting to gnaw at her stomach after hours of working on the clock, without any thought of lunch. 

 

            Settling back down on one knee in front of the clock, Lena picked up a clean paintbrush and dipped it into the varnish, while Kara shut all but one of the windows as the night started to chill. Lena was acutely aware of her movements around the apartment, her footsteps moving from one end to the other, and she breathed in the scent of smoke and wood a few moments after the rough scrape of a match against sandpaper reached her from behind the folding screen. She made the assumption that there was an old fireplace behind it, nearly on top of the one in the café below.

 

            As she made gentle strokes of rich varnish over the exposed wood of the clock hood, Lena listened to the sound of pots and pans clattering, the steady, rapid pace of a knife chopping, and the sizzling of a pan as the aroma of food filled the place. An old radio crackled in the kitchen as jazz music fuzzed out of the speakers, and the fire spit and hissed in the hearth, making for a cosy ambience as the room slowly warmed. They both worked in silence for a short while, with Lena finishing the hood and quickly moving onto the body, until Kara appeared at her side in the middle of the room, a platter in one hand and two sparkling wine glasses in the other, a dusty green bottle tucked under her arm. 

 

            “I thought you might like something to pick at while dinner cooks,” she said by way of explanation. 

 

            Paintbrush poised in hand, Lena peered around the body of the clock, where she stood stooped over as she varnished the mahogany midway down the case, and she eyed the dewy red grapes, the wheel of brie cheese and pitted olives. Hesitating, she quickly set the paintbrush down on the soiled sheet spread over the floor and looked down at her dirty hands.

 

            “I might just wash up a moment,” she apologetically said, raising her hands and splaying her oily fingers to Kara.

 

            Nodding in understanding, Kara sank down to the floor in the empty space of the room while Lena excused herself to the bathroom, gingerly opening the door, and shutting it behind her. The floor was the same warped floorboards as the rest of the apartment, and the walls were tiled in emerald green up to her shoulder, the same size and shape as bricks, with gleaming white grout in between, before it gave way to white plastered walls. 

 

            A black enamel tub was ringed with a white shower curtain, a brass showerhead visible as it curved over the bath, and a white sink and toilet were crammed into the space. It was elegantly old fashioned and sparkling clean. An old gilt mirror spotted with age stood above the sink, and a few shelves held handmade bars of soap and a collection of lotions, shampoos and folded fluffy towels. 

 

            Trying not to be intrusive as she took it all in, Lena quickly scrubbed her hands with the thick bar of soap on the side, the smell of lemons perfuming the air as soap suds bubbled up in her palms, and she quickly washed away the dirt and grease from her slender fingers and from beneath her nails. Drying her hands on the towel looped through a ring on the wall, she quickly checked her face in the mirror, ran a hand through her hair, and walked back out into the room.

 

            Kara was uncorking a bottle of wine as Lena approached, taking in the spread on the floor. With a small pop, the cork came free, and as Lena sank down on the opposite side of the platter, Kara reached out and poured a steady stream of white wine into her glass, before filling her own. Reaching out for it, Lena raised it and watched it turn golden in the amber light of the room, turning the glass in her hand before she took a tentative sip. It was fresh and sweet, tasting of flowers and spring, and her eyebrows rose in surprise. It didn’t taste like any wine she’d had before.

 

            “Did you make this yourself?”

 

            “Mhm,” Kara set, setting the bottle aside and reaching for a small red pepper stuffed with cheese and herbs. “It’s dandelion wine. I go out a few times throughout the year and pick as many of them as I can and press it into wine. This is from last year’s batch; it goes well with cheese, in my opinion.”

 

            Eyebrows rising even further, Lena hummed slightly, head tilted to the side as she eyed the wine. “Dandelions, huh?”

 

            “I know they’re weeds, but they’re actually really useful in cooking.”

 

            “I like it.”

 

            Brightening, Kara bit into the pepper while Lena reached out for a slice of salami. They were silent for a few moments, enjoying the food and the wine as the sky darkened outside, and despite her isolation and loneliness that she’d come to become contented with, Lena found that she didn’t feel uncomfortable with Kara. Not at all.

 

            Cutting a wedge of brie off the wheel with a cheese knife, Lena spread it on a cracker and eyed it warily. “Did you make this yourself too?”

 

            “The cheese? No,” Kara laughed, one cheek dimpling as she gave her a lopsided smile.

 

            “What, you don’t have a goat lurking about here somewhere?” Lena snorted.

 

            “I mean, I’d  _ love _ a goat, but they eat everything, and I’m quite attached to my flowers and laundry.”

 

            Gesturing agreeably, Lena bit into the cheese and cracker while Kara took a sip of wine. Brushing the crumbs off her fingertips, Lena reached for her own and took another sip, surprised again by how light it was. It tasted  _ green _ , fresh and warm as if she’d captured sunlight in it. 

 

            “Really though,  _ where _ do you make all this?”

 

            “In the basement,” Kara stated matter of factly. “It seemed a shame to waste all that empty space, so I turned it into a distillery, essentially. I’ve got crates of wine and cider down there. Jack takes them to farmer’s markets for me too. I’m actually going to one with him in a few weeks. You should come! I mean, if you’re still here and you’d like to.”

 

            Taken by surprise at the invitation, Lena’s eyes widened slightly, and a tentative smile flitted across her face almost instinctively. Kara’s excitement at everything was always so infectious. It made her think about things other than her heartbreak, made her  _ feel _ things other than her heartbreak. Of course, the emptiness was still there, and the hollow feeling in her chest, but it was a dull reminder at the back of her mind when she was with Kara. It was almost enough for her to feel like she was okay when they were together. She wondered if that was what it was like to have a friend.

 

            “Really? I’d love to. If I’m still here.”

 

            It was a big  _ if.  _ It had already been weeks, with no sign of anyone from the local council or emergency services doing anything to help remove her boat from the archway of the bridge. Not that they  _ could. _ A man had come a week after she’d called off Kara’s phone, took one look at the narrowboat and how tightly it was wedged, and made a few noncommittal comments about how they’d try and sort something out. Yet not boats big enough to pull it out would be able to fit on the narrow river, and no tow trucks could get even remotely close to the wooded banks of it. Chances were that Lena was going to be stuck there for a while yet.

 

            “You would?” Kara asked, her voice coloured with unabashed surprise.

 

            “Yeah, it sounds fun.”

 

            “Great.”

 

            She beamed widely at Lena, before reaching for a grape and popping it in her mouth. Streaky brushed up against her arm, and Kara laughed as she nudged him away and the cat sprang across the room, jumping up onto the piano stool and then onto the keys, his feet creating a jarring melody as he scampered across them and over to the windowsill, where he curled up. Shaking her head, Kara set her glass of wine down and pushed herself to her feet.

 

            “Streaky is the resident piano player here,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I have to leave the keys uncovered or he scratches at the case.”

 

            Drifting towards the oven, Kara opened the door and let out a few wisps of steam as she peered inside, before straightening up and setting a frying pan over the heat and adding a splash of oil. Her body was half-turned towards Lena, who took up her paintbrush once more and slowly continued to varnish the stripped wood. 

 

            “Do you have any pets?”

 

            “I used to have a pony when I was younger,” Lena mused, “and my brother had a dog. Not anymore.”

 

            “You said Metropolis, right?”

            

            “Mhm.”

 

            “Big city. I’ve been there once or twice.”

 

            Shrugging silently, Lena continued to paint, while Kara cooked. Making steady progress while the smell of meat cooking made her stomach quietly growl, she was nearly finished with the first coat when Kara sheepishly gestured towards the table.

 

            “Do you mind if I move this?”

 

            Dropping the paintbrush, Lena quickly moved to gingerly pick up the varnished hood, cords swinging beneath it as she lifted it from the table, and gently set it down beside the clock. Pulling her coat off the table, she glanced around and Kara silently took it from her with a gentle smile, before walking towards the coat stand and hanging it up for her. Murmuring her thanks, Lena awkwardly shifted as Kara walked back into the kitchen.

 

            “Can I help set the table?”

 

            “No, no, it’s fine,” Kara quickly waved aside her help.

 

            Nodding, Lena moved back to the clock and was just finishing up the trim, listening to the sounds of knives and forks being gently laid on the wooden table, when Kara uncorked another bottle of wine. As Lena added a few more delicate touches of varnish to the base of the clock, the platter was cleared away, and so was the wine, and clean glasses were added to the table. Catching her eye, Kara smiled at her.

 

            “Dinner will be ready in a moment.”

 

            Drifting towards the table, Lena pulled a chair out and dropped down into it, eyeing her handiwork as the varnish dried on the rich mahogany. Glancing over at Kara, who was ladling a sauce over the food with a look of concentration on her face, from what little Lena could see of her profile, Lena watched her closely, taking in the way her muscles shifted beneath her shirt, the methodical movements as she wiped a dish towel around the rim of the plate, wiping away any drips, and the triumphant smile as she picked up a second plate and carried them to the table.

 

            Setting one down in front of Lena, Kara seated herself across from her. Glancing down at her plate, Lena took in the sight of roasted sprouts, carrots and parsnips, covered in herbs that made Lena’s mouth water, and slivers of roast beef, still slightly pink and perfectly tender, with a red wine sauce drizzled over it, set over a bed of mashed potato. Cloves of garlic and sprigs of thyme were nestled amongst the food from where they’d been cooked with it, and Lena found that she was impressed. More than impressed.

 

            Cutting a small slice of beef, she took a bite and her eyebrows rose with surprise. Glancing up, she found Kara watching her with an anxious look on her face, and Lena nodded appreciatively. 

 

            “This is amazing.”

 

            “You like it?”

 

            Finding herself smiling, Lena eagerly nodded, and Kara relaxed slightly as she moved to pour them some more wine. It came out a purple so dark that it was almost black. 

 

            “I can’t remember the last time I ate something this good.”

 

            Smiling widely, Kara set the bottle down, and Lena realised it was another homemade one. She reached for her glass and raised it to her nose, breathing in deeply, her forehead creasing as she narrowed her eyes. It was fruity, rich and sweet, and it reminded her of autumn for some inexplicable reason. 

 

            “Blackberries?”

 

            Laughing, Kara gave her an impressed look. “Well done. I thought it’d go well with the beef.”

 

            Taking a sip, Lena found herself nodding in agreement; the bouquet complemented the red meat well. As the jazz music played softly in the background, occasionally droning in a static buzz and the signal dropped, they ate and made small talk back and forth, with Lena asking Kara about her day downstairs, while she answered questions about the clock. It was surprisingly domestic, and Lena was grateful for a change of pace - and the company. 

 

            “So, um, funny question, but … I’ve never actually asked how old you are,” Kara said, gently biting her bottom lip.

 

            “Twenty-five.”

 

            “Oh. Interesting. I’m only two years older than you.”

 

            Lena mused over the fact that she was only twenty-seven, taking in the youthful naivety of her face, the pink-cheeked softness and childlike curiosity in her eyes. It wasn’t that Lena thought she was immature - far from it - but she just looked so young.

 

            “Owning your own business at twenty-seven, huh? Impressive.”

 

            “Well, it helps when you have money from a dead parent.”

 

            She said it so airily that it took Lena by surprise, her fork halfway to her mouth before it drooped, and her eyes widened with surprise. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

 

            Giving her a sad smile, Kara shrugged one shoulder half-heartedly, “it was a long time ago. I guess we have dead dad’s in common then. Well, I have  _ two _ .”

 

            “Oh, your parents were-”

 

            “No, no,” Kara laughed, her eyes crinkling with amusement, “I, uh, well, after my dad passed, my mom didn’t handle it well. She dropped me off at her friend’s house and I never saw her again. I lost my adoptive father a few years later.”

 

            Lena didn’t know what to say, words failing her as she set her knife and fork down and stared at Kara. Taking in the wry smile, the offhand gesture as she talked and how she reached for her wine as soon as she finished. There was pain in her eyes even as she smiled through it, and Lena wondered how much strength it took for her to be able to do that.

 

            “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

 

            “Oh, no, it’s fine. It was all a long time ago. I got a sister out of the deal though, so that was one good thing. Even if she is annoyingly persistent at trying to make me move back home.”

 

            “Would you?”

 

            Cocking her head to the side, Kara narrowed her eyes slightly as a thoughtful look clouded her face. “No, I don’t think I would. Not now, at any rate. Maybe when I settle down and want more than a tiny village with nothing to do. It  _ was _ hard at the beginning though. I was heartbroken and alone and I used to cry nearly every night. It was  _ sad _ . I’m sure you understand that.”

 

            Shrugging, Lena picked up her knife and fork again and scooped up some mash. “I haven’t cried since I was nine.”

 

_             “Nine?  _ How can you not cry since you were  _ nine?” _

 

            “I guess I sort of … just stopped,” Lena replied, gesturing with her knife.

 

            “I cry at  _ everything. _ Movies, a good book, a  _ birthday card. _ God, I’d probably cry when the clock starts ticking.”

 

            “I take it you’re sentimental.”

 

            Letting out a snort of laughter, Kara rolled her shoulders in a languid gesture, leaning back and taking a sip of wine.

 

            “Is that a bad thing?”

 

            “No, I’m just not,” Lena brusquely replied. “No attachments, no feelings, nothing to get upset about.”

 

            Scoffing, Kara set her glass down and scooted her chair closer as she cut her beef. “Oh, you don’t mean that.  _ Everyone  _ has baggage.”

 

            “I prefer to travel light,” Lena said, giving her a droll look. 

 

            She found it surprisingly easy to talk to Kara, and she attributed a large part of that to the fact that she didn’t have to pretend to be the person she used to me. Lena could be hard and wry and sad and that was the only version of her that Kara had of her in her mind. There were no other expectations of her, and Lena could relax, without the pressure of forcing a smile on her face at all times. In fact, she found herself naturally smiling quite often as it was, coming so easily that she sometimes forgot that she was hurting. It almost felt like a betrayal to feel happy when so much of her life had fallen apart.

 

            The night moved by swiftly, and Lena insisted on washing the dishes once they’d finished eating. Kara made them both some tea and cut slices of homemade chocolate torte while Lena scrubbed the pots and pans, basking in the hushed evening. Her shoulders were slack, there was a softness to her face, and she found herself content to stay there all night, listening to quiet jazz as she washed dishes and a crackling fire warmed the room. 

 

            Kara pulled a chair out from the table and angled it towards the clock as Lena knelt back in front of it, applying another coat of rich varnish in between sips of tea, bites of torte and easy conversation. For as much as they talked, she revealed little else about herself, and only trivial things when she did, but she liked hearing Kara talk. She liked sitting there in the stuffy room, gently applying brushstrokes of varnish to the wood, nursing a cup of tea in her free hand, while Kara’s warm voice washed over her.

 

            She didn’t leave until it was late. The night was a blanket of darkness outside, hidden behind a veil of clouds, and Lena could feel the lateness of it in the heaviness of her eyelids as she carefully lifted the saddle board, climbed on the crate and manoeuvred the brass coils back into the body, before settling the clock face and mechanism back in its place. Opening the glass door, she quickly reattached the gleaming weights, removed the tape, and then looped the heavy pendulum back through the crutch.

 

            Lastly came the hood, and she slid it back on smoothly and smiled at the sight of the clock, polished and gleaming. Walking over to the table, Lena picked up the little key and held it out to Kara.

 

            “Would you like to do the honours?”

 

            “I’ve never wound a clock before.”

 

            “I’ll teach you.”

 

            There were two circles on either side of the clock face, and Lena eased open the glass door and gestured for Kara to step in front of it. She was taller than Lena by a few inches, staring at the clock right in the face, and Lena shifted awkwardly beside her at the close proximity. Reaching up, Lena gestured to one of the holes.

 

            “Okay, you just put it in, and wind the key until the weight reaches the top,” Lena quietly instructed, watching as Kara did so on one side and then the other at Lena’s direction. “And then you move the minute hand counter-clockwise. All the way until it’s the right time.”

 

            She watched as Kara gently wound the long hand backwards, watching as the blonde glanced down at the wristwatch she wore, and then Lena carefully shut the door to the face and opened the long one set into the body.

 

            “You just have to give the pendulum a push then,” Lena said, crouching beside Kara’s legs and taking the rounded end of the pendulum in her hand, before gently easing it to one side and watching as it swung back to the other. “And that should do it.”

 

            Dusting off her hands, Lena rose to her feet and shut the door, before folding her arms over her chest as she stood at Kara’s shoulder. Side by side, they watched the clock face, waiting patiently until they saw the minute hand tick forward ever so slightly. 

 

            Kara let out a quiet sound of elation, beaming down at Lena, and Lena felt some small sense of satisfaction and pride well up inside. It was one of the easiest fixes she’d ever had to do, with little damage and just a little bit of maintenance needed, but she had enjoyed working on the big clock and enjoyed the look of happiness on Kara’s face.

 

            “Thank you  _ so _ much.”

 

            “No problem.”

 

            “I think I owe you more than dinner for that. You drew the short straw there.”

 

            Waving her words aside, Lena shrugged and ran a hand through her hair, before she crouched down and started to pack up her tools. “I had fun doing it. I’ve been running out of things to do on my boat.”

 

            “Well if you’re ever bored, you know where to find me.”

 

            She looked up and gave Kara a small smile, her eyes gently creasing at the corners, and quickly rolled up her satchel of tools. Putting the tins and dirty paintbrushes and rags back into the bag, Lena scraped all the old curls of varnish up into her hands and was directed towards the trash, before she found herself all packed up.

 

            “I’ll leave the cloth,” she said, nodding towards the stained square beneath the cloth, “it’ll make it easier to move the clock when you decide where to put it.”

 

            “Thank you.”

 

            Nodding, Lena grabbed her things and they slowly gravitated towards the door. Taking her coat from the hook, she slipped her arms through and zipped it up, before scuffing the toe of her boot along the wooden floor as she lingered uncertainly.

 

            “Thank you for dinner.”

 

            “Thanks for the company - and the clock,” Kara said, reaching out to give her arm a gentle squeeze, taking Lena by surprise, although she didn’t show it.

 

            Her stomach clenched at the casual contact, and she ducked her head down as she felt a sudden heat rush through her. She never saw it coming when Kara unthinkingly reached out and touched her arm as if it was second nature for her to be so friendly with people, yet for some inexplicable reason, Lena found herself liking it every time.

 

            “I’ll walk you out,” Kara murmured.

 

            Nodding, Lena’s hand found the doorknob and opened the door. Their footsteps were loud down the narrow staircase, moving slowly in the dark as they tried not to slip, steadying themselves on the rough stone walls. Moving through the dark teahouse, which was eerily silent and threw weird shadows across the room in the blackness, Lena walked towards the door overlooking the water and unlocked it.

 

            Cold air rushed in, making her teeth chatter in surprise, and she stepped out into it, hugged her tools to her chest as she looked back at Kara. They quietly said goodnight, and Lena turned and hurried towards her boat. The river was inky black in the moonless night, and she couldn’t see much as she hurried along the bridge and climbed over, making her way across the precarious rooftop and awkwardly down the ladder. 

 

            Although she couldn’t see Kara silhouetted in the doorway, Lena had the vague notion that she was still there, and hadn’t yet heard the door shut, and was quick to turn the light on inside the narrowboat to signal that she’d made it back inside. Setting her tools and the bag down on the crowded table, Lena locked up, shed her coat and kicked off her boots, and then flopped down onto her bed fully clothed. Her back and arms ached from hours of hunching and scraping, hammering and painting, and she found herself surprisingly tired. Scrambling beneath the covers, she buried her face in her pillow and felt the tension bleed out of her as her heavy eyelids refused to stay open any longer.


	11. Chapter 11

_             Dear Sam, _

 

_             I’m starting to like it here. Not in the kind of way that would make me want to stay, but I feel better just being here. The quietness of it is enough to heal, just by being left alone to dwell in it long enough. I’ve been doing a lot of walking around the area, and it’s beautiful. It makes me want to travel more - you were right, I should do more of it while I’m young. You’d never believe it, but I haven’t been to an antiques store in weeks.  _

 

_             Kara had a broken grandfather clock in her cottage though. It used to be an old farmhouse, a couple of centuries back. It has so many great old features, it’s like going back in time. And the ivy is beautiful. I imagine that autumn makes it magical. Well, she dragged this clock out of the attic for me, and I fixed it the other day while she cooked me dinner in payment. It got me thinking about how isolated my life has been, even when I’ve been surrounded by people. We talked about her family, and she told me about how she makes her own wine, and it felt good to talk to someone. I feel like I haven’t talked so much since you and I were on good terms; it all just came tumbling out. I guess you were right about how much I bottle up too. _

 

_             But she’s so easy to talk to, and I feel like I don’t have to pretend around her. She doesn’t know me, and she doesn’t know you, and I don’t have to pretend to be okay about what happened with you. Her heart’s been broken before too, and she knows loss and grief, and it’s made her kind, and it makes me hope that things will get better for me too. Although, she did buy a cottage in the middle of nowhere, so I’m not sure what to make of that. But, then again, I bought a boat. Perhaps we understand each other better than I thought. _

 

_             I saw a swallow here too, the other day. The first of the season. It took me by surprise, made me sick with sadness, but I think it was a sign. There are a lot of reminders of you here, where I never thought to find you, and it’s been hard, but it’s been getting better. I imagine that it’s a hopeful sign, after all, you’re the one that taught me that swallows are a symbol of home. No matter how far you travel, that you’ll make it home. You’ve been my home since the very beginning, so I like to think that I’ll see you in Paris. Afterwards, I don’t know what’ll happen, but I’m starting to learn to live in the moment and not think too much about the past or present. For now, I’m trying. I’m trying my best, and I’m not having as many bad days anymore. _

 

_             Love always, _

_             Lena _

 

_ - _

 

            She woke in the shadowy darkness of early morning when the world was still sleeping and only the soft hooting of owls and scratching of small woodland creatures burrowing into their dens before morning dawned split the hushed quietness of the last moments of the night. In the narrow cabin of her boat, Lena was sitting at the table, writing a letter by a small halo of golden light which kept the darkness at bay. Despite the hopeful nature of its contents, her eyes were shadowed with purple bruises from a sleepless night, and her hand shook as she wrote.

 

            Sealing it in an envelope, she slipped it into the drawer of the nightstand in her bedroom with the intention of sending it soon. Perhaps. The stale smell of whisky clung to yesterday’s clothes, and after a sputtering cold shower that took her breath away and chilled her to her core, she dressed in her last t-shirt, pulled her favourite green sweater on and bundled up in her quilt on the floor in front of the old wood fire, a cup of coffee in her trembling hands as the cold seeped into the boat. The mornings were always bitterly cold, bringing with it the worst of her painful memories as the void inside her opened up just a little bit more. 

 

            Drinking bitter black coffee, feeling it pool in her stomach as she warmed her frozen fingertips in front of the black cast iron burner, breathing in the faint smell of wood smoke and trying to shake off her troubled thoughts. Shoulders weighed down heavily beneath the heavy quilt, Lena curled in on herself and quickly felt caged. Suddenly, the cramped confines of the boat wasn’t enough for her, and she climbed to her feet, setting the dregs of her coffee aside, and shoved her feet into muddy boots abandoned just inside the door.

 

            Jerking open the stiff cabin door, she held the quilt closed at her breast and stepped outside into the early pre-dawn morning. The air was like a knife down her throat, burning and bracing, and she shut the door behind her and moved towards the rusted railing encircling the small deck at the stern. Teeth quietly chattering behind trembling lips, she stood, and she waited. For what, she couldn’t say, but it felt like the day was holding its breath, and she stood, shoulders tense, and waited all the same.

 

            Beneath a blanket of stars and a waning moon, she stood illuminated softly in the silvery light, her skin phosphorescent as if the moon was trapped beneath her skin, while the rest of her lay steadily in darkness, creating odd shadows on her milky skin. The river was like a ribbon of mercury in the lifting darkness, silvery bright and rippling calmly.

 

            Patiently, she waited as dawn slowly approached. As the sky steadily lightened to violet, to orange, to blue, she watched the first rays of sun along the river, slanting through the trees and dappling the surface of the water. Ducks quacked quietly in the reeds and a splash of water announced the quiet presence of brown trout hidden in the murky waters. The frost burned off the trees standing tall and stretching off along the winding river for as far as she could see, wisps of vapour curling like candle smoke off the dewy leaves as the sun rose higher. Golden light warmed her face and her frozen fingertips as Lena tilted her face up towards its gentle caress, her troubles feeling lighter, smaller, and she thought to herself that nothing felt as good as warmth on a cold morning.

 

            She stayed outside on the stern, listening to the gentle rippling of the river, until a swallow swooped across the pale blue sky and then retreated back into the cabin. Making herself some porridge and a cup of tea, she huddled in the booth and gave her disassembled clocks a dour look, while the gleaming ones lining the bench on the opposite wall all ticked in perfect synchrony. Feeling restless, eyes itching with tiredness but the urge to sleep escaping her, Lena bounced a jittery leg beneath the tabletop. 

 

            With the urge to do something, anything, she washed her breakfast dishes, and the ones from the night before, trying to keep her hands busy, and found that it wasn’t enough. Desperately needing to do laundry, she decided to grab all of her worn clothes and shoved them deep into her bulky backpack, before stripping the sheets off her bed and shoving them inside too, before neatly draping her quilt back over the lump mattress. 

 

            After bleaching the tiny bathroom, wiping down every surface, including the oil-stained table and the crowded clock bench, she swept up wood shavings and stray curls of yellowed varnish off the wooden floor, and decided it was early enough for a walk into the small town. There was a laundromat there that she’d been to once already, and the walk would help clear her head. Shouldering her bulging backpack, she stepped out into the sunshine and hauled herself up the ladder.

 

            Making her way across the bridge, Lena carried on down the well-trodden path, daisies and dandelions sprouting on either side, while rainwater collected in puddles and ditches overgrown with weeds. Birds swooped back and forth, their feathers dappled green and yellow as sunlight filtered down through the canopy, and a rabbit bounded across her path a short way down the muddy track, it’s dun-coloured fur shining brassy in the mottled light.

 

            It wasn’t a very long walk into town, and Lena was about halfway down the winding path when the sound of someone softly whistling a haphazard tune reached her ears moments before the clattering of wheels jostling over the uneven ground. And then from around the thick trunk of an oak tree leaning into the path, Kara materialised, appearing so suddenly that they were both taken by surprise. Breaking quickly, feet skimming the dirt and leaving gently furrows in the mud, she came to a stop a few feet before Lena.

 

            “Éire. Where are you off to so early?” Kara warmly greeted her, hands clamped on the handlebars and a smile on her face.

 

            Hiking her bag further up her bag, Lena shaded her eyes with a hand as sunlight slanted across her face. “Laundry day.”

 

            “Laundry? If you want to save yourself a walk and a long wait, you’re welcome to use mine.”

 

            Blinking in surprise at the offer, Lena cocked her head to the side, “yeah? What’ll this one cost me?”

 

            Laughing as her eyes creased at the corners, Kara deliberated for a moment, gently biting her lip. “A cup of coffee?”

 

            “There are no door knobs that need fixing?”

 

            Swinging down off her bike, Kara wheeled her bike over to Lena, the chain quietly ticking as the pedals rotated. “No, but if you’re bored, I can show you my junk. I didn’t- I mean, all of the furniture left behind, not- well, you might find something worth your time.”

 

            Giving her a wide-eyed look of alarm and slight amusement, Lena watched as Kara’s cheeks turned rosy, before burying her hands in her pockets and rolling her shoulders in a slow shrug, a faint smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

 

            “Sure.”

 

            Side by side, they started making their way back towards the river, Lena holding onto the straps of her bulging backpack, and Kara wheeling her bike through muddy puddles. They were quiet for a few moments, walking along in companionable silence, listening to the birds and the quiet droning of bees amongst the wildflowers.

 

            “So, day off today?” Lena eventually asked.

 

            “No, I was just mailing some letters.”

 

            Nodding, she hefted the bag on her back and fell silent. Neither of them felt the need to fill the silence with unnecessary chatter, and Lena found herself comfortable walking with Kara, passing by ditches full of brown water, taking in the tall stalks of foxgloves amongst the greenery and the early hedgerows of foamy cow’s parsley growing in white clumps along the side of the rutted path. More than one swallow flitted past, swooping low and fast, too quick for her to catch a good glimpse, but it made her stomach lurch with elated joy every time she every time, nonetheless.

 

            As another one went past, a glimpse of white and deep blue, she shaded her eyes and smiled faintly, staring after it as it disappeared into the dappled canopy, and buttery sunlight warmed her face as she basked in it. Catching Kara watching her, Lena dropped her hand and stared back, eyebrows slightly raised in a question.

 

            “What is it?”

 

            Shrugging, Kara chewed on her bottom lip as she stared down at the wheel on her bike, handles gripped tightly in her hands as her cheeks turned a rosy pink. “Nothing, I just- well … you’re a lot different than when we first.”

 

            A surprised laugh bubbled up, and Lena raised her eyebrows as she looked ahead, lips pressed together in a grim line. “I’d like to say that this is the real me, and I was just having a bad day that day - which I  _ was _ \- but … the truth is, I’m different now too. Not quite myself.”

 

            “You seem a lot …”

 

            “What?”

 

            “Happier,” Kara sheepishly continued as Lena pressed her. “Well, maybe happy is the wrong word, I just- you could see that you were going through something. And that’s not to say that you aren’t right now, you just don’t seem so hard on yourself.”

 

            Eyebrows rising in mild surprise, Lena cast a furtive glance at the blonde woman walking beside her, taking in the nervous way she rambled, and the way she gestured with her hand as she kept the bike steady with the other, trying to explain herself.

 

            “I think I’m … less alone now. Which is strange to say, because I’m no less alone now than when I first left America, but there was a large chunk there where I didn’t really speak to anyone. Sometimes no one for days. I think … I’m different because you like to talk.”

 

            Kara let out a nervous laugh, cheeks pink as she ducked her head to hide a bashful look. Lena quietly chuckled at her reaction, a soft smile uplifting the corners of her mouth, and she found herself fondly amused by her. 

 

            “It’s not a bad thing,” Lena assured her after a moment, “talking. I was just … out of practice when we first met. And, well, like you said, not very happy.”

 

            “And what about now?”

 

            “I’m positively a chatterbox now,” Lena joked, skirting around the question as she avoided Kara’s meaning. 

 

            The truth was that she didn’t quite know how she felt. There were moments of happiness that cut through the fog of grief, but she would hardly call herself happy. And the depressing weight of her heartbreak was ever so slightly more bearable these days, but she wouldn’t say that she was happier for it. A less overbearing sadness didn’t mean that it still didn’t consume her and fill her with repentant grief. She found herself caught somehow, yet inexplicably sad. Lena didn’t think she’d be able to put it into words even if she tried. Sometimes just the thought of what had happened with Sam was enough for her throat to close up, and any conversation on the topic was so painful she didn’t think she could even get a word out.

 

            Thankfully, Kara didn’t have time to reply, because the track straightened out to give a glimpse of the old bridge arching across the river, and just beyond a crop of trees laid her cottage. Bees droned as they bumbled from flower to flower, fat and lazy, and the soft clucking of chickens, rippling water and the ebb and flow of conversation through an open door greeted them. 

 

            Slipping in through the back entrance, Lena followed Kara behind the counter, nodding at Imra as she swept past with two saucers cradling coffee cups balanced in her hands, and through the open door at the bottom of the narrow staircase. Footsteps thudding loudly on the wooden treads, they both stomped their way up to the small landing, before Kara fished her keys out of her pocket and fit one into the door opposite the one leading to her apartment.

 

            Hovering one step below the top, Lena watched as Kara stepped back to allow herself to open the door, before she was gestured in ahead of the cook. Pulling up short, Lena stared at the jumbled mess of the room, an assortment of furniture threatening to spill out of the cramped space. 

 

            “Um, so it’s a little messy,” Kara said, “there wasn’t enough space in the attic, so I kind of had to just shove it all in here. But the washer and dryer are just past that- yes, just around that armchair and the vanity.”

 

            Shrugging her bursting bag off her back, Lena turned sidewards and edged through the narrow pass between the piles of furniture. There was an old dresser, a table with uneven legs and four upturned chairs stacked on top, a lamp with a glass shade coated in dust set on top of an end table with a scarred finish, and as she’d promised, just past a wingback armchair upholstered in blue corduroy and a vanity with a speckled mirror and blackened varnish, a washer and dryer stood side by side. Battered cardboard boxes sat on top of one, and a gramophone on the other, and Lena shuffled in the small space to turn back towards Kara, who had followed her in.

 

            “Detergent is just down there,” Kara said, squeezing past the armchair and bracing herself against Lena as she reached down to a bottle halfway hidden beneath a low twin bed pushed up against the window overlooking the backyard. 

 

            Straightening up, she held the bottle out with a triumphant smile. Setting her bulging bag down on the wooden floorboards, Lena took the bottle of cherry blossom detergent with quiet thanks, her eyes roaming around the room as she took in the cluttered mess of antiques. She actually liked that Kara hadn’t been able to give them up, to throw them out like they were junk, when they’d seen lifetimes before her, silent witnesses to different people as they read a book in the old armchair, sat before the vanity and did their makeup. 

 

            The room smelled of dust, old wood and stale air. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it had an abandoned air to it, unlived in and shut away, clearly only used for laundry, and perhaps the odd visitor. Sunlight slanted in through the windows, pooling on mahogany, walnut, cherry and oak surfaces and spiralling dust motes were highlighted like gold dust as they were caught in yellow shafts of light as the air was stirred by Kara and Lena’s trespassing. 

 

            “Right, well, um, coffee?”

 

            “That would be great,” Lena murmured, giving her a faint smile.

 

            Nodding, Kara turned in the small space and made her way out of the room, trusting Lena to know how to use a washing machine. Quickly upending her bag onto the bed, Lena grabbed handfuls of clothes and shoved them into the washer, not bothering to sort it into piles considering the fact that it was either dark, or cheap touristy t-shirts that she didn’t care about ruining. With a cap full of detergent thrown in, she found herself perching on the edge of the bed, running her hand over the dusty surface of the vanity when Kara returned, two mugs in hand.

 

            Passing one off to Lena, she leant against a dresser and took a sip from her own mug, while Lena nursed hers in her hand, leaning forward from her seat on the mattress to run her thumb over the blackened finish of the vanity. It was gleaming mahogany with an oval brass mirror, and she eyed it with interest, before setting her coffee down on its surface and slipping off the bed to crouch in front of it.

 

            “This could actually be worth quite a bit,” Lena abruptly stated, bracing herself against the vanity as she peered underneath the table to try and find a maker’s mark. She couldn’t see one, and her mouth turned down at the corners as she fell back into her crouch. “No maker’s mark but it’s definitely in the Art Nouveau style. It’s at least a century old. See the blackness? It’s most likely from hairspray in recent years, but if it was stripped back and the wood was lacquered, it’d still be valuable. You should look into rehoming some of these if you don’t want to toss them.”

 

            “You can tell all that just from looking at it?”

 

            Shrugging slightly, Lena climbed to her feet, raised her mug and took a measured sip, her eyes fixated on Kara’s surprised expression as her clothes tumbled around inside the machine. With a half-hearted smile, she set the mug of coffee back down, her body appreciating the kick of caffeine.

 

            “Growing up in the business gives you a headstart,” Lena explained. “I learnt about everything to do with antiques, until I decided to focus mostly on clocks. They’re more difficult to fix; I like to be challenged.”

 

            “What about this?” Kara asked, nodding towards the lamp with the dusty glass shade.

 

            Lena smiled as she set her coffee down and moved closer to her. The wiring was frayed, but the base looked to be made of bronze, circular and with the design of tree roots. The dust on the shade obscured the glass, and Lena’s brow furrowed as she reached out for it and wiped away a thick swathe of dust on one of the tiny pieces. It was a vibrant green, although somewhat discoloured with age, and she frowned as she stared at the spiderweb of faint cracks. Gently raising it, the lamp rattled slightly, and Lena carefully cupped the shade as she turned it upside down.

 

            Eyes widening as she took in the maker’s mark on the bottom, her head quickly jerked back up as she gave Kara a sharp look. “Where did you get this?”

 

            “It was left behind. The old woman that lived here before me, well, her grandson didn’t want any of her old furniture, so he left it all behind. Said I could have it with the place if I took it off his hands.”

 

            “I think this is a real Tiffany lamp,” Lena slowly said, righting the lamp and gingerly setting it back down, her eyes wide with surprise.

 

            Of all the places she would’ve expected to find a lamp like that, it hadn’t been in Kara’s junk room. She could’ve been wrong - she rarely was, even if lamps weren’t her specialty - but the maker’s mark looked genuine, as did the antique colouring and cracking on the shade. The shape of it was distinctly uneven at the rim too, a trait she knew that some types of Tiffany lamps utilised. 

 

            A pang of excitement struck her, and Lena took another sip of coffee, rolling the bitter taste of it around on her tongue as she shrewdly eyed the lamp, while Kara studied her quietly. Unable to bring herself to resist, Lena looked up at her and arched an eyebrow.

 

            “I don’t suppose you have any nail polish remover, do you?”

 

            “I think so, why?”

 

            “Would you mind if I potentially ruined your lamp?”

 

            Kara made a choked sound of amusement, before shrugging indifferently and giving Lena a faint smile, before she turned around and shuffled back through the narrow path. Left alone with the clock, Lena used the sleeve of her coat to wipe away the majority of the dust, revealing a beautiful mosaic of blues and greens hidden beneath it, lumps of dust falling onto the unit beneath it as she brushed it aside. 

 

            A few moments later, Kara was back with a bottle of pink nail polish remover and a container of q-tips, which she handed wordlessly to Lena as she eyed the lamp. The irregular shape of the edge of the shade was due to the pattern Lena was slowly uncovering beneath the dust. The brass roots at the base rose up the stem of the lamp in the likeness of a tree trunk, and at the peaked top of the lamp shade, tarnished metal fanned out like the dark canopy of a tree. Metal gave way to stained glass in shades of green, before falling away to cascading blues in the resemblance of wisteria. 

 

            “It’s a wisteria patterned lamp.”

 

            “Oh.”

 

            Shaking the bottle, Lena poured a tiny amount onto a q-tip and gently swiped it through the lingering film of dust, before peering at the dirt gathered on the end of it. With a slight self-satisfied smirk, she showed it to Kara, her green eyes shining with excitement.

 

            “See the dirt? That means it’s not a reproduction or fake. The colours on them usually run and come off if you rub acetone on it. It  _ might _ be genuine.”

 

            “I loved it,” Kara wistfully sighed, “I wanted it in my apartment, but the wiring was fried, and as beautiful as it is, it didn’t seem worth having it in there if it wasn’t going to work.”

 

            Lena blinked as she stared at her for a moment, waiting for Kara to show some kind of shock or delight or both at the fact that she owned such a rare antique. “It’s worth roughly a quarter of a million pounds.”

 

            And there it was, the choked sound, the round blue eyes and speechless opening and closing of her mouth as Kara looked at her with unbridled astonishment. Cup of coffee halfway raised to her lips, Kara froze in disbelief, before she let out an exasperated laugh and rolled her eyes goodnaturedly. 

 

            “Very funny.”

 

            “I’m not joking,” Lena insisted, lips curling up at the corner at Kara’s easy dismissal. “I mean, I’m almost certain it’s a real Tiffany lamp, but I’d need to take a closer look to be sure. But if it is … they’re a small gold mine.”

 

            “That’s worth more than the  _ cottage,” _ Kara faintly replied, mumbling around the rim of her coffee cup.

 

            Lena quietly laughed and turned her attention to the dresser beneath the lamp. While her load of washing spun around in the machine, and then was put in the dryer afterwards, she sat up in the small bedroom and chatted about her line of work with Kara. It felt like a game, with Kara pointing out an item wedged in there, and Lena roughly identifying its year and looking for maker’s marks. Not all of it was expensive, but it was all old. Some pieces were well-loved, and others well-used and scarred. None of it had been made within the past two decades.

 

            In one of the boxes on top of the machines, Kara revealed a stack of old vinyl records. It was mostly jazz, mixed in with some classical and eighties pop, and Kara told her about the nights spent listening to music on the antique gramophone until it had stopped working.

 

            It was easy, sitting there with her, talking about old things and things they loved over cups of hot coffee. The early morning seemed to slip by unnoticed, until the dryer came to a shuddering, silent stop as it finished tumbling the load of clothes inside. Rising from the edge of the mattress where she’d seated herself, Lena opened the door and pulled out a t-shirt. While Kara basked in the sunlight that turned her hair to spun gold and made her eyes crystalline bright, Lena packed her clean clothes away in her bag, neatly folded and smelling sweetly of cherry blossoms.

 

            Hiking the bag up onto her shoulders, she picked up her cup with the dregs of coffee at swirling around at the bottom and faced Kara, who blinked herself back to the present. Face brightening with a smile, she reached out and took Lena’s cup from her, warm fingers brushing against her hand, and turned around.

 

            Locking the door behind her, Kara trailed Lena down the narrow staircase and out into the bustling café, where Imra was managing the first coffee rush herself. It was still early, and Gayle was in the kitchen frying eggs and sausages while she buttered fresh toast, leaving Kara free to walk with Lena.

 

            Following her outside, they walked across the lawn together in the mild warmth, until they reached the foot of the bridge. Hands on the straps of her bag, Lena smiled slightly. “Thank you. I owe you one.”

 

            “You’re free to do your laundry up there any time. Just let me know when and I’ll let you in.”

 

            “Thank you.”

 

            Lena’s voice softened with tenderness at Kara’s open kindness. It wasn’t that she wasn’t used to it, only that Lena had missed it, had craved the easy friendliness of someone to talk to, someone to help her and be helped in return. She’d been missing that ever since Sam had left. Once more, the similarities between two very different woman struck a lonely chord in her heart, and she gave Kara a half-hearted smile, before saying goodbye and walking back to her about.

 

            The rest of her day passed by slowly, undisturbed and peaceful, spent polishing gears out on the deck of the narrowboat, basking in the sunlight as she sipped tea, clutching her chipped mug with oil-stained fingers, until noon came and went and the tea was replaced with whisky as she got an early start on numbing herself. Feeling frayed and raw, Lena munched toast and tried to distract herself by learning some new species of English birds from the battered guide, eyes occasionally latching onto a darting swallow, but ultimately, it made her feel worse as she fingered the gold necklace and thought about dark ink against tanned skin.

 

            Wallowing, Lena did her best to distract herself for the rest of the day. She made the bed with her clean sheets, gaining some small satisfaction from the crisp freshness of them as she smoothed out the creases, put all of her folded clothes away in the narrow cupboard, and neatly arranged her army of clocks and sorted through the broken ones to decide on which one she would fix next. There was one with a finish so scratched that she knew it would take a few hours of stripping the yellowed varnish, sanding out the gouges and painting on a new layer of rich varnish, not to mention the bent prongs on the gears inside from where the screws had rusted and one of them had come loose. It would keep her busy for the night, at least. 

 

            Falling into the easy, soothing motions of peeling lengths of varnish off the clock with a small spatula, she sat in the shadowy interior of the boat as the afternoon passed by slowly, sunlight slanting in at an angle on the other side of the boat as she listened to  _ Rumors _ and worked.

 

            The hours slipped by, and she was well into sanding, the boat smelling of sawdust and coffee laced with whisky, her hands steady despite the steady drinking since early on in the afternoon, and her fingertips were raw from the determined scraping of sandpaper against wood as Lena slowly worked the scratches out. Luckily, most of the scratches were superficial, and most of the damage had been done to the varnish, but there were a few deeper nicks that took up her attention.

 

            Dusk was just starting to settle in, and she’d made herself another cup of coffee, the Irish way, and had turned off the music after the album had repeated itself for the third time, and was debating dinner as she took a sip of coffee and eyed the mess of gears spread out before her. 

 

            “Éire!”

 

            The shout made Lena jump slightly, knees hitting the underside of the table as her coffee sloshed dangerously close to the rim of her chipped mug mid-sip, and her brow furrowed ever so slightly as she set it down. Easing herself out of the booth, Lena walked over to the door and opened it to the dusk, the sky a gunmetal blue and blotted with wispy clouds. 

 

            Walking over to the metal railing of the stern, facing towards the cottage, Lena wrapped her hands around the metal, cold and rusted in her grip, and leant out over the water as she craned her head around the side of the boat with a perturbed look on her face. She knew it was Kara, of course, but wasn’t sure what she wanted.

 

            The blonde was standing a few steps onto the bridge, waving exuberantly as she spotted Lena leaning out over the churning, slow-moving water as it fought to make its way through the blocked arch. Lena raised her hand in a tentative wave.

 

            “What are you doing?”

 

            “Fixing a clock,” Lena called back, her voice soft, almost as if she was hesitant to disturb the hushed blanket that had descended upon the countryside.

 

            She’d come to think of the nights as magical. So peaceful and quiet, so unhurried and everlasting, as if a spell had been cast across the rolling downs and little hamlets, putting everyone to sleep as the sun fell over the horizon with its last rays of warmth. It almost felt intrusive to disturb the stillness of it by speaking.

 

            “Is that open to negotiation?”

 

            Cocking her head to the side, Lena glanced down at the water, the surface a wavering grey and black, while the crickets chirped in harmony and the shadows grew steadily longer. The air was damp and the gentle wind had a bitter edge to it as she deliberated for a moment. It wasn’t like she was doing anything important, and her curiosity had been piqued.

 

            “What did you have in mind?”

 

            “We’re going to the pub.”

 

            “We?”

 

            “Imra, Jack, Gayle and I. I thought you might like to come.”

 

            Pausing for a moment, Lena pressed her lips into a flat line, thinking about the sad dinner she had been planning on making for herself, the heavy silence of the tiny cabin as she was left alone with deafening thoughts, and the long stretch of night as she drank through the early hours and fell into the hole left behind by Sam’s leaving. It wasn’t an appealing thought and she hid a wince. At the very least, if she got drunk, she was drinking with other people, and that made her feel less pathetic in her wallowing.

 

            “Okay.”

 

            “Yeah?”

 

            Nodding, she smiled slightly at the excitement in Kara’s voice. “Just give me a second to lock up.”

 

            Quickly shoving her feet into her boots and fetching her coat to throw on over her green jumper, Lena grabbed her keys and stepped out into the cold. Flipping the switch just inside, she shut the door and locked it, before hoisting herself up the ladder and walking across the treacherous roof, clambered over the moss-covered wall and briskly walked towards Kara.

 

            “Imra’s waiting in the car.”

 

            Taking the news in silence, Lena fell into step beside her, taking in the collar of the shirt that Kara had been wearing that morning and feeling a little self-conscious about her sweater and muddy boots. They walked in silence across the lawn in front of the cottage, before slipping around the far end and skirting the trees enclosing the backyard of the café, listening to the quiet clucks of the chickens in their wooden coop, and followed the well-trodden path through the grove of apple trees at the far end and out to the parking lot.

 

            It was just a clearing in the middle of the woods, situated at the end of a narrow road, the grass turned to mud from the endless wear of car tyres and trampling feet. Shadows made the place gloomy, the trees blocking the last few rays of sunlight, and Lena peered through the grey dusk and found it empty aside from one car. The engine spluttered to life in shuddering bursts, before roaring loudly as two yellow beams of light cut through the trees in front of it. 

 

            It was an old Volkswagen Beetle, powder blue paint scratched and peeling on its bulbous body, the steel fender rusted with age and one of the hubcaps missing. As they walked towards it, Lena caught a few stray words from the music blasting from the speakers, and as she looked at Kara, she was given an exasperated look.

 

            “Imra likes Bon Jovi.”

 

            “Oh.”

 

            Pulling open the passenger side door, Kara cranked the front seat forward and climbed into the back before Lena could protest. Pulling it back into place, she smiled at Lena from the shadows in the cramped space behind the seat and then retreated further into the gloom to buckle herself in. Folding herself into the front, Lena settled back on the cracked tanned leather, slamming the door shut and buckling up as Imra gave her a friendly smile.

 

            “Alright,” she shouted over the music, putting the stick shift into gear and slinging an arm around the back of Lena’s seat as she looked over her shoulder.

 

            They shot backwards, wheels spinning slightly on the damp earth, while Imra turned the large vinyl-covered steering wheel in one hand. Shifting gears again, they lurched forward, music staticky as it blasted out of the speakers and the round headlights illuminated the dark mouth of the road escaping through the trees. 

 

            Two beams of light lit up the darkness of the narrow, winding track, and Lena braced herself as Imra sped down the cramped road hedged in by a wall of trees on both sides, blurring into a solid barrier of darkness. Jostled by every bump in the road, Lena held onto the door as her teeth chattered in her mouth at the jarring impact of the ruts and dips.

 

            It wasn’t a long drive into town, and a few minutes later, two headlights illuminated the low brick wall encircling a house, and the darkness was interrupted by a smattering of streetlights and a soft, yellow glow emanating from a collection of houses. Imra didn’t slow as she sped down dark streets, music blasting and taking corners at a speed that threw Lena against the passenger door with wide-eyed nervousness before they came to a stop on the verge of the road down a side street. 

 

            Killing the engine, they were plunged into startling silence, and Imra opened the door with a squeak as she climbed out. Exchanging an alarmed look with Kara, who grimaced with exasperation, Lena climbed out of the car and cranked the seat forward for the blonde to step out. It was a cool evening, the sun having disappeared and taken the warmth with it, and Lena buried her hands in her pockets as she looked around. Imra locked the car and stepped onto the sidewalk, setting off down the street, and Lena fell into step beside Kara.

 

            Walking down the street, they made a right and carried on straight to the main street, two roads over, before crossing at an intersection and turning left. A small pub was nestled in beside a post office and a pharmacy, light spilling out of the windows and music audible even through the closed door. With a smile, Kara pulled the door open, ushering Imra in and then Lena, before following in after her.

 

            The floor was old flagstones, dark wainscotting gave way to burgundy wallpaper, and sagging beams of old wood blackened with age ran across the ceiling. A few tables were filled with locals, and Lena followed Imra to a booth tucked away in an alcove, crimson leather seats cracked with age occupied by two others. Gayle and Jack. 

 

            Greetings were exchanged, and Lena was introduced to Jack, although she’d been buying groceries off him for a few weeks now, and found herself wedged in between Kara and Imra in the old, soft booth. Climbing to his feet, Jack asked Lena what she was drinking and left to go and order a round, a half-empty pint of lager already sitting before him. The girls all fell into easy conversation, and Lena’s stomach knotted itself uncomfortably at the gentle kiss that Imra placed on Gayle’s cheek. She averted her gaze, taking in the decor of the old pub and fixated on a group of men playing darts. 

 

            A few minutes later, she had a whisky sitting in front of her and Kara was tentatively sipping at her pink gin, while Jack went back to the bar for the rest of the drinks. He gingerly set them down on the table and placed them down in front of their respective owners before taking a seat again, and Lena took a small sip of her whisky as she listened to the conversation as it turned to work, with Imra complaining about a customer that day.

 

            Lena was content to sit in silence, grateful for the company and the chance for a night off her boat, but she was soon pulled into conversation by Jack, who took a sip of his pint and raised his eyebrows slightly. 

 

            “I’ve seen you around town, but I had no idea you’d thrown your lot in with this crowd.”

 

            “I’m just passing through,” Lena said with a wan smile, “eventually.”

 

            Kara rolled her eyes and set her drink down, “I  _ told _ you; she’s the one who owns that lovely boat parked outside my house.”

 

            “Parked is putting it kindly,” Lena mumbled, face flooding with heat as she laughed her embarrassment off, eyebrows rising as she reached for her drink.

 

            “You have great aim,” Imra laughed.

 

            “And terrible luck.”

 

            Their teasing was good-natured, and conversation flowed quickly, back and forth and around again, all of them cajoling and laughing as they drank. The whisky went down fast and easy, burning and warming her stomach, and she nursed her empty glass for a while, until everyone else had finished their drinks and Kara climbed to her feet to get the next round.

 

            After the second round, they ordered food. Lena got the chicken jalfrezi, Gayle ordered the steak and ale pie, and everyone else ordered fish and chips. It was good, and Lena ate in silence as a rerun of a rugby game played on a TV and music was just quiet enough to not drown out their conversation. 

 

            “You want some fries?” Kara asked.

 

            She went to object, but Kara was already nudging her plate towards her. Giving her a small smile, Lena took a chip and dipped it in her curry, before nudging her plate towards her and jerking her head at it. Taking a hint, Kara gave her a bright smile and dipped a chip into Lena’s curry, humming with appreciation.

 

            As soon as he was finished with the last of his fish, Jack drained the rest of his beer, clapped his hands together and smiled, “right, one more round before karaoke starts?”

 

            “Karaoke?” Lena asked, eyes widening slightly.

 

            Kara’s face lit up as she reached for her gin, “best night of the week!”

 

            “Oh, you actually get up and  _ sing?” _

 

            “That  _ is _ the point of karaoke,” Gayle said.

 

            “Right,” Lena murmured, before setting her napkin down, “well, uh, I’ll get the next round.”

 

            Kara stood up and stepped aside, hand gently brushing against Lena’s back as she scooted out of the booth and around her. Placing everyone’s order at the bar, she leant against the length of scarred wood and glanced back at the table. The four of them were laughing, heads together, and Lena felt a pang of yearning, a deep ache inside to have that kind of easy friendship with someone. The only friend she’d ever had had broken her heart.

 

            Turning back around, she swallowed thickly and quietly thanked the barmaid as the first drink was set down in front of her. And then Kara was at her shoulder, and Lena looked at her with mild surprise, a questioning look in her eyes.

 

            “They’ve all gone outside to smoke,” Kara said with a shrug, “thought you might want a hand carrying the drinks back.”

 

            Nodding in thanks, Lena turned back towards the bar, taking in the bottles of liquor nearly lined up on the shelves, the packets of peanuts and pork crackling hanging in bunches, a variety of crisps and a mix of glasses sparkling in the dim yellow light. The place smelled strongly of beer but it was homely, and Lena could imagine settling down in a quiet place like this, going to the pub after work to drink with friends, and it seemed like a nice life. It just wasn’t her life, and she found herself envying Kara.

 

            With Jack’s pint poured, they carried the drinks back, Kara holding three glasses in her long hands, and slid back into the booth to wait for everyone else to come back. They came in a few minutes later, the smell of tobacco and cold clinging to them, and they were laughing at something or another as they crowded back around the table. After a round of thanks, they all picked up their drinks, and as uneasy as Lena felt about being sucked into their little circle of friends, she had to admit it felt nice to be surrounded by people who didn’t care about her past, only that she was there, drink in hand and ready to get up on the mic. Although, Lena was still on the fence about singing; her talents lay in clocks and old things, not singing.

 

            “Okay, who’s up first?” Kara asked as she drained her drink and drummed on the edge of the table, the music quieting before turning off completely.

 

            Lena could see a small platform with a large speaker, a TV and a mic stand set up in the far corner, and she sat there with a faint look of amusement on her face at the thought of how embarrassing it would be, despite the two dozen people filling the pub. At least she didn’t know any of the people in there, but Kara lived nearby and clearly frequented the place often enough and didn’t seem to have any shame about it.

 

            “You,” came the chorusing reply off her friends, and Kara rolled her eyes, before climbing to her feet.

 

            She gave Lena an excited smile as she walked towards the stage, cheers from her friends following after her, and Lena gently bit her lip, before turning towards Imra.

 

            “Can she even sing?”

 

            Nodding, Imra raised her eyebrows slightly, “she’s actually quite good.”

 

            “Oh.”

 

            “If only she sang something other than jazz,” Gayle groaned.

 

            Lena choked on a laugh and pressed her lips together in a flat line, before turning her attention to Kara, who was carefully adjusting the height of the mic stand while she spoke to the man in charge of the karaoke station. A few moments later, the music started up, and there was a collective groan from Kara’s friends before they cheered loudly along with the rest of the pub as the jazzy tones of brass instruments sounded up.

 

            Eyes widening as Kara started her rendition of  _ Fly Me To The Moon, _ Lena was taken by surprise at how good her voice was. It was a little rough around the edges, but Kara was  _ good _ . Better than good. And Lena found herself enraptured by the sound of her voice, the boldness of it and the delighted look on Kara’s face as she sang to the half-full pub. A lighthearted laugh fell from Lena’s lips as she watched with wonder and unabashed astonishment, and found herself clapping in a daze as the song came to a close.

 

            Laughing with the regulars as she wound her way back to the table, touching arms and making quips, Kara fell back down into her seat and exhaled forcefully, bright-eyed with a smile stretched across her face.

 

            “Who’s next?”

 

            Spluttering, Lena gave her an incredulous look. “You can  _ sing?” _

 

            “A little.”

 

            “Well, I’d hate to be the one to follow that.”

 

            Draining her spiced rum and coke, Imra ran a hand through her dark hair and arched an eyebrow, “oh, well, you haven’t heard me sing.”

 

            Gayle let out a derisive snort but followed Jack out of the booth to let her girlfriend out, squeezing her arm gently, before they all scrambled back in. Lena watched her go and half-turned towards Kara.

 

            “Can she sing as well?”

 

            “She’s  _ awful,” _ Gayle said with a sigh, “and it’s  _ always _ -”

 

            “Bon Jovi,” Jack and Kara groaned in unison, the blonde putting her head in her hands as she shook her head.

 

            Imra wasn’t as bad as they were teasing, and everyone in the pub sang along and cheered with the drunkenness of people who had been in their cups for a few hours already, and Lena found herself having fun, much to her surprise. It was a good atmosphere, and she was happy to be wedged in between Kara’s warmth and whoever happened to be on her left at the time.

 

            Gayle went afterwards, singing some old rock and roll song and looking every inch the part in her leather pants and dark lipstick before Jack managed to coerce Kara into a duet of some eighties pop song. Some of the other regulars took turns in between, and they all clapped along, another round of drinks in front of them, singing loudly and drunkenly as they grew tipsier and tipsier with each round. 

 

            No matter how much they cajoled Lena, she refused to get up and sing though. Feeling awkward and trying to laugh it off, she sipped her drink and refused the offer. It wasn’t that she cared what other people thought of her - perhaps not as much as she could’ve cared - but she didn’t really care that much for music, and the only thing in her repertoire was Fleetwood Mac. And she wasn’t entirely confident in her ability to carry a tune anyway, although there wasn’t exactly a pool of talent in the pub.

 

            They eventually stopped badgering her when she offered to get another round, and when she returned to the table, Gayle and Imra were bickering over which duet to sing together. Head pleasantly foggy, Lena’s eyes were burning slightly with tiredness and the hum of voices over the music was comforting, making her feel warm and sleepy.

 

            It wasn’t until shortly after midnight that they left, some of them stumbling slightly, Jack with his arms thrown around Kara and Gayle’s shoulders, while Lena and Imra followed along behind. The other woman was smoking, a cloud of white billowing out before her as Lena kept pace. At the centre of town, they all parted ways, with Jack making for his flat above his shop, Imra and Gayle hand in hand as they made for their house, leaving Kara and Lena to make the walk back to the river together.

 

            In silence, hands buried in their pockets, they followed the road to the last house and stepped into the deep shadows of the overhanging canopy. The night was damp from the moisture in the air, speaking of rain yet to come, and a gentle breeze swayed tree branches and long grass and ferns in the underbrush. Some small creatures disturbed the bracken and damp carpet of rotting leaves, while a soft hoot spoke of a nearby owl, watching from the dark. 

 

            Ambling slowly towards home, they enjoyed each other’s company and the fresh air without speaking a word, wrapped up in their own foggy thoughts and feelings. Lena felt strange - numb, warm and empty all at once - and she was wrestling with that as she burrowed into her coat and scuffed her boots along the dirt track.

 

            But all too soon their walk came to an end with a ribbon of shimmering silver lit by bright moonlight as they stepped out from beneath the canopy of darkness. Water lapped against the hull of the boat and Kara’s cottage stood solid and dark, a fresh crop of ivy rustling where it crept up the old stone, and Lena felt their night come to an end. She  _ almost _ wished it wouldn’t. Distractions were welcome interruptions from the monotony of her life stuck on the river.

 

            “Well … this is me,” Lena said as they stepped onto the stone bridge.

 

            Nodding, a slight smile on her peaceful face, Kara hovered for a moment, as if debating something, before stepping forward and wrapping Lena in a surprising hug. It had been a long time since she’d been touched in such a way, and her eyes widened, even as her arms came up to encircle Kara. Warmth radiated from her and Lena’s throat closed up as her stomach knotted itself. And her chest ached. It ached so much for a different set of arms that she almost tore herself from Kara’s grip. 

 

            But she didn’t, because as much as Lena missed Sam, she craved the intimacy of just a simple hug too much to deny herself a brief moment of indulgence. Lena could feel Kara’s breath against her neck, warm and soft, raising goosebumps on her skin as she closed her eyes and suppressed a shudder. She could feel the bumps of Kara’s spine beneath her coat, the shifting muscles and rise and fall of her chest, and Lena swallowed thickly as she was gently held.

 

            The night was still, the water rippling from the gentle wind that ruffled their hair and was just cold enough for Lena to be grateful for the warmth of another person’s body pressed up against hers. Nothing but the sound of running water, soothing and soft, and the deep croaking of a frog in the reeds and a fish splashing in the murky darkness of the river disturbed them, and Lena’s hands glided up over Kara’s sharp shoulder blades to cup her shoulders, her chin gently resting on the thick denim of her jacket. 

 

            And as they started to sway slightly, almost as if drifting with the wind, Lena let out a shaky laugh. “Are we- are we dancing?”

 

            Kara’s laugh was low and quiet in her ear, and Lena closed her eyes to the night, feeling the closeness of her and feeling strange inside. Guilty, but relieved, hollow, yet warm. Lena didn’t know how to feel. It was like her loneliness and grief were gone in that moment, as it so often was in Kara’s presence, but the attention of someone else made her feel ashamed, as if she was invalidating her feelings for Sam by letting herself even entertain the thought of it feeling nice to be held by someone else.

 

            “I think we are.”

 

            Finding herself at a loss for words as shyness crept up on her, a rarity for her but no less apprehensive because of it, Lena seized the first thought that came to mind, her tongue forming the words that fell from her lips before her muddled mind could even think twice about it.

 

            “I’ve never danced with anyone before.”

 

            “Don’t worry,” Kara murmured, her voice soft and earnest, “I’ll always dance with you.”

 

            Lena’s chest ached dully, and she slowly pulled back, a pained look in her eyes as she looked up at Kara. She was shining like silver in the moonlight, her hair bleached of its colour, her face washed white and her eyes like coins as a waxing moon, just shy of its fullness, illuminated the night. The troubled look in Lena’s eyes was visible even in the wan moonlight, strange shadows cast over her porcelain features as she pulled her hands away from Kara and ducked her head. A scant foot separated them, and Lena could feel her cheeks burning and was grateful for the dark.

 

            “Why are you always so nice to me?”

 

            Kara was quiet for a moment, head cocked to the side and a thoughtful look on her placid face, before she smiled faintly, while Lena steadfastly avoided her gaze. “Some people need it more than others. Just a little bit extra.”

 

            “I don’t deserve it.”

 

            “You don’t have to deserve it, but you need it,” Kara gently said, reaching out to touch Lena’s hands as she found herself fiddling with her fingers. “Lena-”

 

            “I should go. It’s late.”

 

            She turned around, shoulders hunched and a constricting feeling in her throat, as if she couldn’t quite breathe properly. Her chest ached, her mind was heavy with thoughts of Sam, and exhaustion made her limbs leaden as she stepped away from Kara. Making it as far as the wall, hand pressed against damp, velvety moss and rough stone, Lena came to a stop at the voice behind her.

 

            “I’m sorry. I’m sorry she loved you badly. I’m sorry she made you sad and made you think you’re undeserving of kindness. But it’s not true.”

 

            Shoulders taut, Lena eased herself up onto the wall and slithered over the other side, leaning back against the stone and tilting her face up to the blanket of stars. Eyes shut, she breathed in deeply, before letting out a faint sigh and sagging with weariness. 

 

            “Goodnight, Kara.”

 

            Walking along the length of the boat, she climbed down the rusted ladder and let herself into the cramped cabin, soft ticking greeting her as she flipped on the light and squinted at the yellow harshness. 

 

            Cold air blew in from outside, and Lena lingered in the doorway, leaning against the peeling door frame as she breathed in cool, dank air blown in on the river and waited until she saw a light come on in the second story of the cottage. Only then did she shut the door and go to bed, a pit of frustration making her feel sick as she lay in bed with her thoughts until the sun rose again and her eyes were gritty from a lack of sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

_             “I’m sorry,” Sam said, her voice soft, listless, full of pity and sadness. _

 

_             “Sorry,” Lena scoffed, a bitter smile curling her lips as she couldn’t even bring herself to look at the woman she loved. _

 

_             It was hard enough as it was. It was hard enough being there, listening to the words and realising that there was nothing she could do. Feeling powerless, Lena turned to anger, stoking the smoldering embers within her chest as she resolved herself to rage to mask her hurt. By her twisted logic, if she allowed herself to be angry with Sam, it would hurt less. It was a bold-faced lie, but a welcome lie at that. The truth was too painful for her to confront. _

 

_             “Lena-” _

 

_             “I love you.” _

 

_             “I know you do, and I’m sorry,” Sam said, her voice a soft sigh, full of her own pain. “You know I never wanted to hurt you. But I can’t help it.” _

 

_             Throat closing up, Lena shook her head, her body taut and trembling as she let out a shuddering breath. She felt like she was suffocating, felt her chest constrict as her stomach twisted itself uncomfortably. A pain like nothing she’d ever felt before stabbed painfully in her chest, and there was an unfamiliar burning behind her eyes that startled her. Lena hadn’t cried since she was a child, since her father had died, yet the urge to do so was  _ almost _ there. _

 

_             “But you could’ve,” Lena snapped, her hands balled into fists. “You didn’t have to- it could’ve been  _ me! _ You could’ve picked me and I-” _

 

_             “Lena, you know that I never- I mean … I love you, I do. But you and I-” _

 

_             Teeth grit in anger, she fixed her eyes on the grey walls, on the dreary view outside the window, anywhere but at the woman who was breaking her heart once more, and not for the last time either. _

 

_             “Here.” _

 

_             And she looked, sharply turning to look at the quiet command in Sam’s voice, her eyes landing on the slender tanned hand held out towards her. Moving forward almost instinctively, Lena looked at the swallow tattoo inked darkly against her skin and swallowed the lump in her throat as thin fingers unfurled to reveal a thin coil of gold.  _

 

_             Her hand was already extended, and she tried to pull it back, but not before Sam managed to catch her wrist with her other hand, gently tipping the gold necklace into her palm, the little gold bird dangling from the chain. It was achingly familiar. Lena had watched it hang from Sam’s neck every day since she’d first met her. The fact that it was being given to her then could only mean one thing. It was goodbye. _

 

_             “I don’t want it,” Lena objected. _

 

_             Cool fingers pressed Lena’s hand shut over it, obscuring it from sight, and Sam gave her a tearful smile. “Please. I know you think I’m being cruel, but I want you to have it. You know how much you’ve always meant to me. I’m just- I’m sorry it has to be this way.” _

 

_             “It doesn’t make any difference. You picked  _ her.”

 

_             There was accusation in Lena’s voice as she spoke, the words harsh as her voice trembled with hurt and anger, and she turned her back on Sam and made for the door, ignoring the sound of her name being called after her. No one came after her though, and the door banged shut a moment later as she shoved her fist into her coat pocket. _

 

_ - _

 

            A few days passed by in loneliness and isolation. It wasn’t that Lena was avoiding Kara, but their paths didn’t cross and she found herself relieved yet troubled by it. Of course, Lena still saw her, catching glimpses of taut shoulders beneath a shirt as Kara kneaded dough in sight of the window, of a flash of blonde hair visible from the stern of her boat. She imagined Kara saw her likewise, sitting on her deck and reading books on birds and plants, or traipsing through trees, the smell of pine strong and inviting as she walked over beds of pine needles and through bracken. 

 

            Yet neither of them reached out to the other for some inexplicable reason. Perhaps Kara thought that Lena bore some resentment or wounded feelings towards her after the bitter truth of the words she’d drunkenly spoken, but Lena didn’t stay away intentionally. She just had nothing to say. Nothing to force her to cross the lawn and sit down inside the teahouse and enjoy the view of the river.

 

            Of course, she could’ve always gone for the simple pleasure of Kara’s company, but Lena found herself stuck in the darkness of her own thoughts, and shunned the idea of seeking out the presence of someone else to wallow with. Her heart just wouldn’t have been in it. And she was somewhat grateful that Kara left her alone on her boat.

 

            Still, the weather was bleak, the sky grey as spring showers rained down intermittently while swallows flocked towards the cottage. More often than not, Lena found herself shut up inside her boat, working on the Cartier wristwatch until her temper grew short at her inability to fix it, and she took her frustration out in angry letters, full of her old resentment and accusations she harboured against Sam. For all of her progress, the patched-up pieces of her heart she’d been working on mending, all it took was a foul mood for Lena to tear herself back open, wear away the flimsy strands holding herself together until the old hurt came rushing back in.

 

            A few nights later, she found herself in such a mood, out of any liquor to dull the frayed edges of her hurts and an unrelenting rain that kept her bound to the boat and unable to make the muddy trek into town. The rain had started before dawn, the pattering waking her up in the darkness of the early morning, unable to go back to sleep, and unlike the showers of the few days before, it didn’t stop.

 

            The first sign that anything was wrong was the lashing rain that wouldn’t let up. That in itself wasn’t unusual in England, and it was still early on in spring, but it had been raining non-stop all day, pounding down on the roof of the boat in something of a comforting lullaby as Lena holed herself up inside. It was cold, and she lit a fire in the wood burning stove, drinking copious amounts of coffee and tea throughout the grey day, taking them both black when she ran out of milk around noon. She worked on her clocks and wondered when the rain would let up, wondered whether the teahouse had been quiet, and wondered what she should make for dinner.

 

            But the rain only seemed to get heavier, and not even the fire could keep the chill away as it seeped into the boat, leaving Lena shivering slightly as she bundled up in her coat and thick socks, curled up on the bench as a file shook in her hands. As snug as her narrowboat was, it wasn’t made to withstand a downpour of such magnitude, and Lena’s body was taut as she tried to suppress the shivers than wracked her every so often. No amount of tea warming her stomach could make them go away.

 

            The thing about a river is that it constantly flows, steadily keeping pace with the current of the water, snaking around obstacles in its rush to keep moving. But when it’s effectively dammed, with only a narrow space for the water to escape through, the water builds up, the river fighting to worm its way through and keep moving, the riverbed rising ever so slightly after weeks of being corked. A thing such as a boat is made to float, that being the fundamental purpose of it, and after weeks wedged into the arch, slowing the flow of the river, it was doing just that. Floating. 

 

            But, unbeknownst to Lena, the build-up of water on one side of the footbridge as it fought to funnel its way through the gaps around the narrowboat, had lifted one end slightly. It was an imperceptible shift, the barest tilt as the rear of the boat was buoyed by the water, while the nose was ground down into the silty riverbed. The change wasn’t even enough to make anything within the boat become unbalanced. Nothing except water oddly pooling to one side of the shower floor, or slightly lopsided in the old sink. Nothing Lena would notice.

 

            Nothing she would notice unless it happened to be pouring down all day, slowly filling the enclosed stern of the boat and pushing up against the closed door. Not unless it started leaking through, unbeknownst to her, just a small trickle finding its way through the cracks around the edges of the door and winding its way down the length of the boat. 

 

            As a novice sailor, Lena didn’t have much experience dealing with heavy rains, and was gloomily eating a tin of soup while wrapped up in her quilt, the fire burning high as she tried to keep the bitter cold at bay, and was unaware of the lurking chaos that was about to ensue. An unsuspecting victim, she scraped her bowl clean and climbed to her feet, intending to leave the dishes for tomorrow and nurse herself to sleep with a few stiff drinks when she stepped into a wet stream of water running down the centre aisle.

 

            “What the fuck,” she muttered to herself, grimacing as she raised a soggy sock-covered foot and frowned.

 

            Her eyes ran up the length of the ribbon of water, following it to its source, and realised all at once that it was trickling in through multiple points beneath the door and cascading down the steps. Cursing quietly, she danced her way around the veins of water, all but threw her bowl in the sink, spoon clattering loudly, and made for the door, slipping in a patch of water as she neared it.

 

            Instinctively reaching out to catch herself, Lena grabbed the door handle, and much to her surprise, went reeling backwards as it opened inwards with a flood of water rushing in over her feet. Stinging rain slanted in and bit at her cheeks as she spluttered in shock, water running over her feet and down towards the bedroom, and she realised that it had been pooling up against the door in the shallow enclosed rim of the stern. 

 

            Teeth on edge as her fuzzy socks squished through cold water, Lena slammed the door shut and ran a hand over her wet face, damp curls of hair sticking to her rain speckled cheeks, and she closed her eyes and ran a hand over her weary face. It was already pitch black outside, no light except through the windows of Kara’s apartment, the moon obscured by heavy storm clouds, and Lena was tired and freezing and didn’t want to be dealing with a flood at that particular moment.

 

            Sighing, she gingerly made her way down towards the bedroom, feet squelching and slipping, gripping the edge of the table, bracing herself against a cupboard, and slipped into the cramped, dark room. By touch, she felt for the cupboard with the towels, pulled her second one out, and paused. There was a nagging thought at the back of her mind, and slowly, she made for the door again, trying to pinpoint exactly what it was that she was forgetting.

 

            It wasn’t until a long, deep groan emanated from the hull that panic truly set it, and with a sudden lurch, Lena’s feet slipped against the polished floorboards and she fell face forward towards the floor, hand and towel catching her as she landed hard. The sound of clocks clattering against the floor elicited a small cry of despair, splintering and chiming audible, and a cascade of gears, screws and tools tinkled as they pinged off of every surface on their way down towards where she lay.

 

            It suddenly struck her that she was lying at a slant, an odd angle for a boat which should’ve been flat in the water, and she scrambled to her feet as a small hammer struck her toe. Swearing loudly, she grabbed at the cupboard to her right and hobbled slightly, teeth grit and anger burning hotly within her. Whatever had just happened, it didn’t sound like it had been good, and Lena knew that somehow, it was her fault.

 

            Not the rain, of course, but she hadn’t taken any precautions against it. And she’d made sure they were tightly wedged into the arch, with nowhere to go as the tide swelled and riverbeds rose. But there were things she couldn’t account for either, like the age and disrepair of the boat when she’d bought it. The bitumen coating covering the plating of the hull had worn away over the years, and the plating had corroded with rust without her knowledge. 

 

            She’d been too pleased with her bargain to even assume she had to take care of such things, but it meant that unbeknownst to her, when she’d crashed straight through the archway, knocking the narrowboat about it the tight space with her shoddy steering, the plating had cracked. Not a big crack, but wide enough for water to slowly seep into the boat as it sat in the water, the river coursing past it. 

 

            That in itself wasn’t a big problem, but with the shifting riverbed beneath it and the slight tilt the boat had taken on, any water that should’ve been sent back to the stern to be manually turned out by the bilge pump was fighting against gravity. But Lena  _ hadn’t _ been manually pumping it either. The thought hadn’t even occurred to her that her boat might be slowly filling with water beneath her very feet. She’d read through the owner’s manual, of course, but even that had just been to distract herself from her heartache and pass the time as she floated towards Paris.

 

            And now she was paying for her mistake. With the storm and deluge of rain, water pooled beneath the berth instead of the stern, the bilge pump not so much as touched, and with that, the plating cracked some more as the stern was lifted by the rising waters on the one side of the bridge as the narrowboat corked the archway. As the stern lifted, the bow was ground down against the riverbed, until the pressure had grown too much on all sides and the boat started to break.

 

            Eyes wide, lights flickering until they went out, Lena listened to the lashing rain as she stood braced against the cupboards, panic welling up inside as she wondered what she was going to do. She could  _ feel _ the boat shifting, settling, beneath her feet, hear the rain drumming hard against the wooden cabin, and it occurred to her that there was nothing she  _ could _ do. There wasn’t a hotel in the nearest hamlet, let alone the nearest town, so even trying to get off the boat and sleep elsewhere was just futile. 

 

            Standing there, water splashing over her soggy toes, listening to the distant rumble of thunder in the dark, everything felt so far away, so removed to the stifling confines of the cabin. Aside from the quiet trickling of water and her own heartbeat amidst the irregular ticking of clocks, nothing moved. The hum of electricity had died, the fire was burning so low that there were no logs left to crack in the heat, and the air of comfortable silence was somehow sinister as the boat broke around her and cold emanated from the very walls of the place.

 

            And then she heard something. It sounded like a shout, distant, quiet, yet out of place in the endless rage of the storm and pattering rain. Brow furrowing into a frown, Lena cocked her head to the side and listened, almost  _ sure _ she’d heard something, and then her eyes widened suddenly when she heard it again. The muffled, faraway sound of her name being called, unmistakable even with all the rain. And there was only one person it could’ve been.

 

            Gingerly making her way towards the door, pausing to jam her feet into the boots that had tumbled down to rest in the corner where the booth met the kitchen cupboards, Lena clutched at whatever was within her reach as she walked up the incline and up to the steps. Opening the door to a peal of thunder and a faceful of rain, she grit her teeth and ducked her head, bracing herself in the mouth of the door frame as water poured over her shins.

 

            Wading up the few steps, she emerged into the night, blinded by rain and already chilled to her core, and brushed wet hair out of her face as she squinted. The stern jutted upwards at an angle, and she was very nearly walking on the wall of the cabin with one foot as she made towards the metal railing topping the low enclosing deck at the rear. Poking her head around the boat, she tried to peer into the darkness, past the sheets of rain, and find Kara, but it was simply too dark.

 

_             “Kara?” _ she called out, eyes blindly searching as rain coursed down her face.

 

_             “Lena?” _

 

            “What are you  _ doing?” _

 

            “I came to see if you were alright! I mean- you  _ can’t _ stay out here. It’s  _ freezing _ , Éire.”

 

            Lena swallowed a laugh, her lips trembling as she wiped sodden hair out of her face, still trying to pinpoint where Kara was calling from. Shivering, rain soaking through her clothes and pattering off the thick weave of her coat, she felt stiff and numb.

 

            “I think my boat is broken.”

 

_             “What?” _

 

            “I think my boat is broken!” Lena yelled back, closing her eyes as devastating realisation set in. “It’s flooding.”

 

_             “Get off it!” _

 

            Letting out a shuddering breath, Lena nodded to herself, and they made her way to the other side of the stern, her shaking fingers wrapping around the cold, rusted metal, feeling the icy coldness of it like lines of fire across her palms, and hauled herself up. Teeth chattering loudly in her head, she felt rainwater run down the collar of her shirt, goosebumps rising on her skin as she pulled herself up and up, until she flopped onto the soaked roof like a fish on dry land. 

 

_             “Careful!” _

 

            The voice came from straight ahead, and Lena squinted to make out the dark shadow of something moving in the rain, standing on the bridge. Hands splashing water everywhere as she pushed herself onto all fours, Lena scrambled safely for the middle of the boat, and slowly climbed to her feet. If she’d been wary about her tramping up and down the roof before, it was positively easy compared to walking across the slippery surface in a downpour.

 

            Yet she was careful. Careful enough to make it half of the distance to the bridge before she slipped. Perhaps if it hadn’t been raining, Lena would’ve caught her balance, but if it hadn’t been raining, she probably wouldn’t have slipped to begin with. As it was, Lena slipped backwards, tailbone bruising painfully on the roof, before her shoulder blades struck the edge hard and momentum and gravity forced her over the edge, legs flying towards her head as she did a painful imitation of a backflip off the boat.

 

            Mouth open as a cry of surprise fell from her lips, water rushed into her mouth as Lena plummeted head-first into the river, submerging completely with a splash. She was soaked through immediately, the taste of the murky water gritty in her mouth as silt was stirred up from the muddy floor of the river. Lena was only under for a moment before she resurfaced, gasping for air as the cold struck her all at once and left her breathless and numb. 

 

            Rain pelted her as she urgent current tugged at her, the river clutching at her coat as she waded through it, up to her shoulders while her hair plastered to her face and her lips trembled from the cold. Struggling to the riverbank, she shook and puffed through the shocking freezing water, her body feeling leaden and sluggish, her mind slow as she blinked owlishly through dark tendrils of inky hair, unsure of what she was doing, only that she had to get out of the water.

 

            Reaching the tall reeds growing along the bank, the wind forcing them to bow in submission before it, Lena felt the riverbed creep to a gentle incline, and she clawed her way through the slender plants and heaved herself up onto soaked, spongy earth. Her legs were still in the water, and her boots scrabbled for purchase in the soft mud as she crawled out of the water like some sort of selkie out of a nightmare. 

 

            She hadn’t heard Kara’s shouts or frantic footsteps, but she knew the hand that grabbed her collar and dragged her the rest of the way out of the water was her, and as she was hauled to her feet with strong, she sagged into her arms as her knees went out from under her, shivering violently against the soaked coat pressed against her raw cheek. The deep rumble felt through Kara’s coat let her know that she was speaking, but Lena couldn’t comprehend a thing she was saying. 

 

            The next thing she knew, she was hunched over as half of the river seemed to stream off her, squinting through the darkness to watch as Kara chased down the massive umbrella she’d tossed aside to help Lena out of the river. Intense shivers wracked her body and Lena hugged her arms to herself, the taste of the river in her mouth and a dank odour around her as the rain did a thorough job of adding to the sodden mess of her being.

 

            And then she blinked slowly in surprise as Kara emerged in front of her, an inside out umbrella over her head, and threw an arm around her shoulder and quickly ushered her towards the cottage. Opening the door to the dark interior of the café, Kara stood outside in the rain, quietly cursing as she tried to close the inverted umbrella, while Lena did her best to create a new puddle beside the door.

 

            “Get yourself inside,” Kara softly ordered her.

 

            “I-I d-don’t want t-to get your fl-floor wet.”

 

            “It’s going to get wet regardless. You’re  _ freezing!” _

 

            With a small sound of triumph, Kara managed to get the umbrella to collapse, all but pushed Lena inside, following her into the dark and slamming the door shut behind her. It was quiet inside, the rain and storming locked outside with the night, and Lena dripped onto the flagstones as she shivered silently.

 

            “Come on,” Kara said, a dark shadowy figure standing tall in front of Lena, voice trembling every so slightly from the cold.

 

            Kara made for the door, hinges squeaking slightly before the tramp of boots filled the narrow space, the wooden steps slippery as they dripped rain on the way up to Kara’s rooms above the teahouse. Lena lingered a few steps below as Kara opened the unlocked door and stepped inside, yellow light spilling out onto the landing, and she felt weak with relief at the thought of somewhere warm and dry.

 

            “Alright, you go and get out of those wet clothes and I’ll find you something to put on.”

 

            “It’s okay, I-”

 

            Kara turned and gave her a bemused look, lips curling up faintly at the corners, “you’re going to catch a cold if you stay in them.”

 

            Standing there silently, water pinging on the dark floorboards burnished amber in the warm light, Lena shifted and rolled her shoulders in a shrug, before a shiver wracked her body and her teeth audibly chattered.

 

            “Éire?”

 

            “Thank you,” Lena eventually replied, shoulders going slack as she slumped where she stood, tiredness slamming into her.

 

            As much as she hated to be an imposition, Lena couldn’t deny that dry clothes would be most welcome, and she felt a rush of gratitude towards Kara as the blonde gave her a grim smile. Without further protest, she was ushered towards the bathroom and told to leave her sodden clothes in the hamper, fresh towels were stocked on the shelf, and to take her time in the shower.

 

            Closing the door, Kara left Lena inside the bathroom, and Lena quickly shed her coat. In the small space, the dank smell of the river was strong, clinging to her hair and her skin and her clothes, which were shed in rapid succession and dumped into the hamper. It wasn’t an unpleasant smell, the fresh odour of rotting plants and moss speaking of the outdoors, but Lena was chilled to her core and felt gritty as she blinked back the heavy feeling behind her eyes.

 

            The first gentle caress of water from the showerhead made her go weak at the knees, a scalding circle pounding against the pale skin of her shoulders, before it cascaded down her back. She quickly thawed out, her tremors subsiding as her skin turned pink from the heat instead of the cold, and Lena sank down to the floor of the tub and curled up into a stiff ball. 

 

            Eventually, she found the energy to wash her hair with the sweet-smelling shampoo, basking in the smell of apples, before scrubbing the smell of the river from her body with soap, washing crescents of oil from underneath her fingernails while she was at it. When she shut the water off, she was quick to wrap a towel around herself, hugging the warmth of it to her as if afraid that the numbing cold would creep back into her limbs.

 

            A gentle knock on the door interrupted her after a few minutes, and she cracked it open a few inches, towel clutched to her chest and found Kara hovering outside with a sheepish smile on her face as she held out a pile of clothes. Lena’s expression softened and she returned the smile, reaching out to take the pile of clothes with a quiet thank you. 

 

            Shutting herself back inside, she found herself holding a pair of soft grey sweatpants, a faded navy t-shirt, and a sweatshirt of the palest blue with a hole in the collar. There was a pair of fluffy socks too, and Lena quickly dressed herself, revelling in the feeling of soft fabric smelling of the same laundry detergent that had enveloped her for the past few days. Running a hand through her damp, towel-dried hair, Lena felt clean and warm and exhausted and dumped the towel into the hamper before exiting the bathroom.

 

            Kara was in the kitchen and turned as Lena walked out, holding two steaming mugs in her hand while a saucepan bubbled quietly over a flickering flame. Jerking her head, Kara made for the open end of the partitioned section of the room, and Lena followed after her, a wall of heat washing over her as she neared the fireplace, where a cheerful orange fire burned bright and fiercely hot. 

 

            “I thought coffee would be a good place to start,” Kara said, pushing a mug into Lena’s hands, before gently taking her arm and propelling her down onto the foot of the bed, in range of the fire’s warmth. “But I have stronger stuff if you need it after.”

 

            “Thank you.”

 

            Nodding, Kara stood there for a moment, before turning and walking back around the lacquered wood cutting her bed off from the rest of the apartment. Listening to her clatter about in the kitchen, Lena took a merciful sip of coffee and glanced around. The bed was neatly made, a stack of pillows piled on it and a thick throw folded at the food of it, a beautiful antique lamp and a framed photo stood on one end table and a stack of worn paperbacks on another.

 

            The fire popped in the hearth, sparks flying up the chimney, and Lena closed her eyes as she breathed in slowly and deeply. It was still relatively early in the night, but it felt endless, and she sat, shoulders slumped as she clutched the cup of coffee, leaching the heat from it. 

 

            “Hey. You okay?”

 

            Head jerking up, Lena gave Kara a tired smile and shrugged in defeat. She noticed she was carrying two bowls, curls of steam rising from them, and a mouthwatering smell that made Lena’s stomach quietly rumble.

 

            “Here. I thought you could use something to eat.”

 

            Despite the fact that she’d already had a tin of soup earlier on, Lena found herself ravenous, eating the thick potato and leek soup with slices of bread that Kara had baked that morning. She didn’t have to ask whether she’d made the soup too - it was too good to be from a can. 

 

            They ate in silence, Kara sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the fire, while Lena perched on the bed, cup of coffee on the hardwood floor. There was a glassy look of disbelief in her eyes, but for the moment, she tried to push thoughts of her boat out of her mind. 

 

            It wasn’t until their bowls were empty and the plate that had held the bread was nothing but crumbs, that Lena moved. Waving aside Kara’s protests, she gathered up the dishes and carried them to the sink, where she filled it with hot, soapy water and busied herself with the soothing, familiar motions of the task. 

 

            The night was a wall of impenetrable darkness through the window, dotted with inky beads of rain as it dotted the glass, and she found herself fixated on it, brooding as thunder rumbled quietly outside the walls. Kara made a fresh pot of coffee as Lena washed up, and the padding of feet alerted them both to the black cat the uncurled itself from the bulleted sofa to wind itself around their legs as Streaky purred loudly.

 

            Sitting at the small, round dining table with fresh cups of coffee, a cat curled up in Lena’s lap, they were alone with their thoughts for a few moments, before Kara finally spoke, a look of concern swimming in her blue eyes. She primly set her coffee down and bit her bottom lip as she picked her words carefully.

 

            “What happened?”

 

            “Ah,” Lena laughed, brushing her tangled mess of dried hair out of her face, “well, the rain got inside, and then the boat … broke? I don’t really know, but it kind of … lurched. And then the power went out. Then you showed up, by some miracle.”

 

            Letting out a short laugh, Kara gave her a grim smile. “I was coming to check on you.”

 

_             “Check on me?  _ What on earth possessed you to go out in a storm with a bloody  _ umbrella _ to see if I was snug in my boat?”

 

            Shrugging, Kara raised her pale eyebrows slightly and picked up her mug to take a quick swig of black coffee. “A conscience?”

 

            Lena let out a derisive snort of laughter, shaking her head as she drank her own coffee, sweetened with a touch of honey, and suppressed a shiver as she thought about the freezing cold of the river.

 

            “I don’t know, I just- I’ve been camping before, and I know how cold it can be outside, even in spring, and I thought … well, I thought I’d check and see if you were warm enough. I know a boat is a bit different from a tent, but I don’t imagine they’re very well insulated.”

 

            “You might be right,” Lena said with a wry smile, pausing for a moment as she gripped the handle of her mug, “thank you.”

 

            Shrugging off her gratitude, Kara drank her coffee down to the dregs and set her cup back down. Chair legs grating against the floorboards, she pushed herself away from the table and climbed to her feet, looking down at Lena, who was absent-mindedly stroking Streaky’s silky fur.

 

            “You look like you’re dead on your feet, so you finish up your coffee and I’ll try and shift some stuff around in the junk room.”

 

            “Oh, no, I couldn’t-” Lena started to object.

 

            Kara waved her hand dismissively, “your boat is  _ broken. _ You just told me it’s flooding! And it doesn’t look like the storm is passing anytime soon, so it’s not like you have anywhere else to go. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but it looks like you’re stuck with me. For now at any rate.”

 

            A confusing maelstrom of emotions welled up inside Lena, the least of them being the bitter pining that constricted her chest painfully at Kara’s words. Lena had never been stuck with anyone; they always had a habit of leaving, in the end. She wanted to object to the offer, embarrassment and bristling pride refusing to allow her to accept the kindness, yet she knew that Kara didn’t offer out of pity, but out of a genuine desire to help.

 

            Lena could’ve left if she wanted to, and she took in the patient look of expectation on Kara’s face as she waited for an objection that never came. Boots wet, sodden coat hidden in the laundry hamper, and leaden exhaustion making it seem almost impossible for Lena to even make it as far as the cramped room just opposite the door to the apartment ended up convincing Lena to just accept Kara’s kindness. It almost felt like she was betraying Sam every time she looked to someone else to take care of her, to fill in the gaps inside her where warmth had previously dwelled. But she was too tired to feel guilty, too worn down to think of anything other than she wasn’t eager to risk another dip in the river trying to clamber back onto the broken mess of her boat waiting for her. 

 

            “Okay,” Lena mumbled, watching Kara’s face light up.

 

            Slouched in the dining chair, Lena blinked back the prickling feeling behind her eyes and watched as the blonde quickly made herself scarce. Savouring the last few mouthfuls of coffee, and the scant warmth that pooled in her stomach with each sip, Lena found herself defeated and stuck once more, in an even more awkward situation than she had been when she’d crashed into the arch.

 

            But that was tomorrow’s problem, and as she drained the bitter dregs, setting her and Kara’s mugs into the sink, she scratched Streaky behind the ears and stepped out onto the landing. The door right across was open, and Kara was turning down the thick quilt, a more manageable path winding through the packed room as she’d tried to shove heavy wooden furniture aside, and Lena smiled faintly to herself as she watched the tenderness of Kara’s hands smoothing out the creases in the bedspread.

 

            “Sorry, I know it’s cramped,” Kara apologised, her voice hushed in the dim light of the naked bulb lighting up the room.

 

            “It’s great, thank you,” Lena earnestly replied.

 

            Nodding, Kara dusted her hands off and paused for a moment, “um, so that door leads into the bathroom, but it’s kind of … blocked, so, uh, just knock if you need to use it.”

 

            “Okay.”

 

            “Or if you need anything else.”

 

            Inclining her head, Lena hovered just outside the door and watched as Kara made her way towards her, a soft weariness to her features, and Lena felt a strange release inside her chest at the lopsided way she smiled, one side of her mouth curling up higher than the other. It was nice to have someone be nice to her, to not have to struggle through confused feelings, to just be able to be grateful to someone without any strings attached. She didn’t owe Kara any obligations, and although they were friendly, Lena would be gone soon. Kara would just be someone she’d known once, for a short time, but her kindness was welcome all the same. It was easier that way.

 

            “Goodnight then.”

 

            “Goodnight,” Lena whispered.

 

            Kara slipped past her, stepping into the darkness of the landing, giving Lena’s arm a gentle squeeze in passing, before Lena stepped into the bedroom. She gave Kara a grim smile, before shutting the door and finding herself locked up with a bunch of broken or worn antiques, the smell of dust, wood, varnish and laundry detergent a surprisingly pleasant odour. 

 

            As far as impromptu sleeping arrangements went, it wasn’t too different from Lena’s usual predicament. Reaching for the string light switch, Lena gave it a gentle tug and plunged herself into darkness. Old things and a bed were the staples of her necessities, and she ran her fingers along polished oak and walnut, scarred mahogany and worn upholstery as she wound her way towards the bed.

 

            The curtains had already been thoughtfully closed, and she slipped between the turned-down bed sheets with a sigh, burrowing into the heavy warmth of the quilt as rain fell angrily on the shingled roof of the cottage. Wrapping an arm around a pillow, she made herself comfortable on the narrow bed, and closed her eyes, knowing that sleep would be quick to follow that night.    
  



	13. Chapter 13

_ Down comes rain drop, bubble follows; _

_ On the house-top one by one _

_ Flock the synagogue of swallows _

 

_ \- Theophile Gautier. Life, a Bubble. A Bird’s-Eye View Thereof. _

 

_ - _

 

            Lena woke the next morning to the soft sound of rain falling against the shingled roof, somewhat muffled because of the ivy, and weak sunlight brightening the room as she blearily blinked herself awake. A sliver of grey sky was visible through a gap in the curtains and she groaned as she realised where she was and the series of events the night before that had led to that point.

 

            Pushing herself up, she looked around, breathing in the old wood and varnish smell as dust motes spiralled through the air, trapped in a narrow shaft of light. Her body felt heavy, and the thought of more sleep was tempting, but Lena found herself alert. Too awake. Running a hand through her tousled hair, she yawned wide enough to make her jaw crack, and dug the heel of her palm in her eye socket as she rubbed away the last vestiges of sleep.

 

            Falling back against the pillows, she stared up at the dark beams stretching the length of the room. Chickens clucked outside, sounding forlorn in the damp weather, and Lena went limp against the mattress, eyes closing as she breathed slowly. Feeling drained, she would’ve been happy to hide in there forever, unable to find the effort to rouse herself. 

 

            And then there was a gentle rap on the door, so quiet that she wasn’t sure whether she’d imagined it or not. If she’d been asleep she wouldn’t have even heard it. Sitting up, the old springs in the mattress groaning as she shifted, she looked towards the door, beyond the pile of furniture.

 

            “Hello?”

 

            “Oh,” came Kara’s muffled surprise behind the closed door, “you’re awake.”

 

            A quiet laugh fell from Lena’s lips and she swung her legs out of bed, the floorboards cold even through her fuzzy socks, and she padded through the stacks of furniture towards the door, pulling it open to reveal the other woman. Blonde hair drawn back from her face, an air of tiredness around her as if she hadn’t had her first coffee yet, wearing a thin grey sweater with the sleeves rolled up. It made her eyes look bluer.

 

            “Good morning!”

 

            “Hi.”

 

            “Um, do you want coffee?”

 

            Lena cocked her head to the side, watching the way Kara gingerly smiled, as if unsure of Lena’s answer. Biting her lip softly, Lena smiled faintly, remembering all the times she’d ever been that way. Of course it had been different for her; she’d had feelings for Sam, and had been young and blundering in trying to figure out whether Sam felt the same way about her. But Kara was just being nice. Nice and unsure of how aloof and contrary Lena was feeling that morning.

 

            “Coffee would be great.”

 

            The smile that flashed briefly across Kara’s face made Lena feel oddly warm inside, and she found herself confused about how much she  _ missed _ that feeling. She didn’t know what it was about Kara that brought back such strong memories of Sam, only that there were moments where Lena felt okay, and she didn’t know how to reconcile that with the parts of her that weren’t.

 

            Stepping out of the bedroom, she followed Kara downstairs, behind the counter with some trepidation, and hovered in the doorway of the kitchen as if held back by an invisible boundary. Watching as Kara plucked a clean apron from a row of hooks crowded with more aprons and dish towels, Lena leant against the door frame and watched her tie it around her waist with deft movements. 

 

            Turning on the old gas stove, Kara set a frying pan down and an old cast-iron kettle, before she moved quickly back and forth, fetching butter and eggs, tomatoes, mushrooms, sausages and bacon. Finding herself drawn into the room, Lena leant against the wide island counter and watched as Kara cut a knob of butter off the square and set it into the pan, melting quickly over the heat, before she tossed in sausages and bacon and the kettle started to faintly whistle.

 

            Lena quietly made them both strong cups of black coffee, catching Kara’s eye and giving her a small smile as she took the kettle off the heat, while Kara cut thick slices of bread for toast and cracked eggs into the pan. 

 

            Pulling a stool out, Lena perched on it and watched Kara set out two plates, quickly dishing up heaping serves of food onto both plates, the smell of crispy bacon, little golden potatoes, perfectly crispy,  and buttery toast making Lena’s stomach rumble. Cracking fresh pepper over both plates, Kara set one down in front of Lena with a flourish and a smile.

 

            Digging in, they ate side by side, and Lena found the company welcome, coming alive with the caffeine she sipped in between bites of perfectly soft fried eggs and blistered cherry tomatoes. It was the best breakfast she’d had in a long while, and she cleared the whole plate, feeling more alive and ready to face the grim task of checking on the state of her boat.

 

            Her offer to wash the dishes was waved off as Kara cleared everything away and pulled out ingredients for her baking, a cloud of flour rising into the air as she slammed it down onto the scrubbed wooden worktop, ready to turn into some culinary work of art. Lena was almost tempted to ask if she could stay and watch, to see those slender fingers sprinkle the flour with such delicate precision, beating eggs with practiced ease as the tendons in her forearms strained against her golden skin. She could almost imagine the smell of some sort of cake baking and she wanted to watch the methodology of the task, knowing that it was an escape for Kara in the way that fixing clocks was for her.

 

            Instead, she left. She borrowed a pair of boots two sizes too big and a raincoat that hung halfway down her hands, and stepped out into the fine mist of rain, finding a bank of fog obscuring most of the river and making the trees on the bank look ghostly as they loomed out of the blanket of whiteness around her. 

 

            Traipsing towards the bridge, Lena winced at the dark shadow slanting at an odd angle from out of the archway, and with a sinking heart, knew that she hasn’t overexaggerated the damage done to her boat. With clumsy trepidation, she somehow managed to make her way up the gentle slope of the roof, dropping over the edge onto the stern, and paused in the open doorway as her stomach lurched.

 

            In her rush last night, she’d forgotten to close the door behind her when Kara had called out. Peering into the dimness inside, she pressed her lips into a flat line of bitterness, the dank smell of stagnant water and damp wood filling the small space and the interior a mess. Slowly stepping inside, Lena took in the damage.

 

            There was water everywhere. The hardwood floor was slick with it, it was spattered on every surface, and the wind had scattered everything near the open door from its place. Books lay open with broken spines, facedown and soggy, more of her clocks had shifted further down the boat, laying in water-damaged pieces, and the smell of off food emanated from the dead fridge, making Lena’s nose wrinkle at the rank odour.

 

            With a weary sigh, she trudged further inside, making straight for her bedroom, where to her dismay, the door also stood open, and the water that had made its way inside and slid down the length of the boat, had decided to pool. Her sheets were wet to touch and beyond the bed, near the foot of the steps leading to the bow, a puddle of water gathered, sloshing gently back and forth as her footsteps made the floor tremble ever so slightly.

 

            Fetching her bag from one of the cupboards, Lena grabbed handfuls of clothes and shoved them into her bag, before dumping it against the solid bed frame and sinking down to the floor. She was in a try patch near the headboard, where the water had pooled so shallowly that it had evaporated, even in the moisture-laden air of the storm, and she tipped her head back, eyes closing as she wondered what she was going to do.

 

            There really was only one thing she  _ could _ do, and the thought weighed heavily in Lena’s heart as she slumped in resignation. A part of her had been holding out hope that things wouldn’t have been as bad as they’d seemed in the dark. But of course, they always were. Sometimes, the harsh light of day had a way of making it seem  _ worse. _

 

            Finally, after a long time, she climbed to her feet again, the moisture in the air mingling with rancid food and dampness making her feel nauseous, not helped by the blackness inside her as she wallowed in her misery, and she swiftly exited the boat. It was drizzling again, a blanket of grey mist and coldness that made her breath plume before her, and she paused at the top of the rusted ladder and squinted out at the view. 

 

            The fog had lifted for the most part, and from her new vantage point at the top of the sloped boat, Lena had a spectacular view of the wet countryside. Green stretched in every direction, in rolling hills and thickets of trees, pastures dotted with ambling livestock and a patchwork of fields ready for planting. It was a quiet morning, as if the world was sleeping out the last vestiges of the storm, and Lena could’ve believed that she was all alone out there, shrouded in a veil of mist.

 

            With a sigh, she slid over the lip of the roof and half-skidded down towards the bridge, palms slick with water and feet slipping as she tried to control her descent. Hauling herself over the side of the bridge, she walked a few feet to the opposite side and stared out over the bow.

 

            The water was slow-moving and it looked so peaceful that, for a moment, Lena had the urge to dive right in. It would’ve been bitterly cold - she had first-hand knowledge of that - but from where she was standing, it looked nice. Calm. She imagined tipping over the edge and letting the current take her away, watching as the treeline fall away as all of her troubles ceased to exist. 

 

            She stayed there, looking out at the water like an immovable statue, for the better part of an hour. It was soothing, but it didn’t help in the slightest. None of her problems were any smaller, and nothing had changed except the rain had lightened. 

 

            Lena heard the footsteps approaching but didn’t look up, the sound of wet grass squelching in the mud, dirt being ground underfoot, until a paper bag was set down in front of her and she looked up into a pair of soft blue eyes. Whatever was in the bag smelled heavenly, and Lena glanced back down and parted the open end to see a fresh muffin nestled inside.

 

            “Thought you might be hungry.”

 

            Nodding, Lena turned her attention back to the water, a brooding look clouding her expression. “Thanks.”

 

            “Any luck?”

 

            Shrugging defeatedly, Lena clenched her teeth, the muscles in her jaw working as she stood there silently. Cheeks dimpling as she grimaced, Lena leant her forearms on the cool stone and watched the wind tear across the surface of the river with murky green eyes as rain misted on her hood.

 

            “Lena?”

 

            She glanced sideways, hood drawn up over her damp hair and gave Kara a defeated look, her green eyes hard as bitterness welled up inside. There was pity in Kara’s blue eyes, and a searching look as they roamed over Lena’s face, trying to read her expression.

 

            “I’m fine,” Lena said, shoulders slumped as she leant against the wall, staring out over the bow ground down into the riverbed as water rushed out of the arch with the slow current.

 

            She sounded tired, worn down and just exhausted. There was nothing else she could do now; she’d hoped for the best, which hadn’t been a very high expectation as it was, and now she was stuck in the middle of nowhere, no boat, no car, nothing but a few broken clocks and an empathetic neighbour to bear witness to her wallowing. 

 

            “What’re you going to do now?”

 

            Shrugging tiredly, Lena shook her head, her eyes fixed on the murky waters as rain ran down her back and dripped off the edge of her hood. It dimpled the water and she watched a duck ruffle its feathers as it glided along the rippling surface. 

 

            “I guess … I guess it’s time for me to go back home.”

            

            “What? No! You can’t- what about Paris?”

 

            Lena let out a sharp laugh, a wry smile twisting her mouth as she grit her teeth. Paris had been a joke to start with. What did she even expect to get out of it? It wasn’t like Sam would seriously come back to her, and Lena doubted it would give her the closure she needed anyway. It had just been an idea to give her time to fix herself back up without having to accept the fact that Sam had picked someone else because she hadn’t loved Lena enough. 

 

            “I’m not  _ going _ to Paris, Kara. I can’t.”

 

            “What do you mean? I-I can drive you to the airport. I’ll borrow Imra’s car and-”

 

            Closing her eyes, Lena let out a shaky breath, swallowing thickly as her chest tightened. Running a hand over her rain-dotted face, she sniffed and shook her head. “I can’t go because I’m not- I’m not ready. I mean ... I was supposed to have more time. And if I go now … I don’t think I can face it.”

 

            Blowing the air out of her cheeks, Kara buried her hands in her pockets and nodded slightly to herself. “Okay. It’s settled then. You can stay here until you’re ready.”

 

            Exhaling sharply, Lena pressed her lips into a flat line, suppressing a shiver as a cold wind swept by them. “Kara, my boat is sunk, the nearest decent hotel is probably an hour away, and I- … I’m tired. I’m just  _ so _ tired.” 

 

            “I’m not talking about a hotel,” Kara lightly replied, leaning against the wall and gently nudging Lena with her elbow. “You can stay with me.”

 

            “That’s very kind of you, but I couldn’t.”

 

            “Why not?”

 

            “Because … because I …”

 

            “Come on, Éire. Let me help you.”

 

            “I don’t-” Lena started, before biting off her sharp words. 

 

            Kara was just trying to help. She was always trying to help, and that just made Lena feel worse, because she’d had someone to help her before, and then they’d left. And it was different this time; she didn’t love Kara, and Kara didn’t love her. But she was nice and made Lena feel warm and made her laugh sometimes - laugh like she’d used to laugh - and Lena found it hard to accept her help because she’d been burned by kindness before. Nothing came without strings.

 

            “Look, I know I might’ve overstepped the other night … but I meant what I said. You don’t have to be  _ deserving _ of kindness. You don’t need a reason to say yes, and I know you don’t need a reason to say no either, but … I’m offering to help you. You can stay here, with me, until you’re ready. Get your boat fixed. Sail to Paris. Get her back, if that’s what you really want.”

 

            It was. It was everything she wanted and her chest throbbed painfully at the thought of Sam, of what she could have with her, and Lena was quiet for a few moments, fingers brushing the velvety moss as she chewed on her bottom lip. A part of her wanted to take Kara up on her offer, too afraid of going back home empty-handed and too afraid to go to Paris, but she found herself hesitating.

 

            And then she glanced at the muffin in the damp paper bag, taking in the pools of melted white chocolate and the swirls of deep pink from the raspberries baked into it. Curls of steam slowly drifted up from it, still hot and fresh out of the oven, and Lena softened, her resolve wavering. The temptation of staying a bit longer was strong, the chance to dwell in the tranquility of spring with her thoughts, patching up her wounds and walking through the downs while the swallows flocked home.

 

            Then there was Kara. Lena enjoyed her company, the way that it was so easy to forget about anything except where they were in that moment, the fact that there were things they had in common, but didn’t have to talk about unless she wanted to. Here, with Kara, she had the company she wouldn’t have back home with her mother, or in Paris with the tension of her heartache hanging over her, and she felt less alone. It was surprising to realise that, but Lena didn’t want to go back to permanent isolation. 

 

            “Okay,” Lena said, turning to face Kara, a wariness in her eyes.  _ “But _ I’m paying board.”

 

            Giving her an exasperated look, Kara grimaced and raised her eyebrows. “Wha- no! You don’t have to do that.”

 

            “I’d have to pay if it was a hotel.”

 

            “But it’s  _ not _ a hotel. It’s a spare room that all of my junk has been shoved into.”

 

_             “But _ it’s a room in a building that isn’t my own,” Lena argued, a flicker of amusement in her eyes, “so … I should pay board.”

 

            Letting out a snort of laughter, Kara rolled her eyes, “if I let you pay board, that typically would mean meals are included. You know … if I’m doing the whole bed and breakfast thing in my cottage. That-, well, it doesn’t- I’m not forcing you to have  _ dinner _ with me every night, but I’ll cook you three meals a day. And if you want anything, like a muffin.” Kara picked up the one cooling on the wall in the shelter of it’s paper bag and scooted it towards Lena, “that would be included too. Tea and coffee and laundry privileges as well.”

 

            Giving her a shrewd look as she narrowed her eyes, Lena pursed her lips. Glancing down at the muffin, she deliberated for a moment, before looking up at Kara again.

 

            “Okay, deal. Fifty pound a night.”

 

            “No, no, no,” Kara laughed, spluttering as her eyes widened, “you’re dreaming, Éire. Five.”

 

            “Five? God, you’re awful at bartering. You know you’re supposed to take the highest offer, right?”

 

            “Ten?”

 

            Lena made a choked sound as she pushed her hood back, the rain fading to a slight mist, and pushed her dark hair out of her face. One side of her mouth lifting in a crooked smile she gently shook her head.

 

            “Do you know how much a hotel costs per night?”

 

            Raising a finger, Kara gave her a solemn look, “yes, but as we’ve clarified, it’s  _ not _ a hotel, which means I’m not going to extort you.”

 

            “It’s not extortion when I’m offering.”

 

            “Ah, but my good conscience couldn’t let you do that.”

 

            “Forty.”

 

            “Not a chance.”

 

            “Thirty and you have to let me fix up all of your junk.”

 

            Cracking a smile, Kara arched an eyebrow and cocked her head to the side. “That actually benefits  _ me _ , you know. You say  _ I’m _ bad at bartering, but you’re not supposed to benefiting _ me _ .  I’m supposed to be doing  _ you _ a service.”

 

            “But I  _ like _ fixing things. And my clocks are all ruined now so …”

 

            A thoughtful look crossed Kara’s face, before she nodded. “Okay.”

 

            Allowing herself a smile, Lena nodded, “great, it’s a deal-”

 

            “Twenty and you can fix it.”

 

            “Oh, you’re  _ infuriating!”  _ Lena quietly exclaimed, chuckling quietly as she shook her head and reached for the damp paper bag and pulled the muffin out.

 

            It was still warm and she broke a small piece off and chewed thoughtfully, looking out at the dripping tree branches and the hushed quietness of the early afternoon. The air smelled of petrichor and dank water, and Lena found that she really  _ didn’t _ want to leave. Not right then; perhaps not for quite a while. With a quiet laugh at her own thoughts, Lena smiled tenderly and looked back up at Kara. Setting the muffin back down, she stuck her hand out.

 

            “We have a deal then.”

 

            Kara’s hand was warm against hers as her fingers closed around Lena’s, giving it a gentle shake. Smiling brightly, Kara’s blue eyes creased at the corners and she kept hold of Lena’s hand for a few moments longer than was necessary, and Lena found herself smiling back at her, oblivious to the fact that they were face to face, still holding hands after their handshake had ended.

 

            Their hands eventually parted, and Lena picked the muffin back up as Kara looked down, pink-cheeked and smiling, breaking it in half with a cloud of steam and handing one part to the blushing blonde, who looked rather pleased with herself. Reaching for the red thermos, Kara poured out a stream of green tea into the cap, which served as a cup, and set it down in front of Lena, before taking a tentative sip from the thermos. 

 

            Overlooking the river, they ate the muffin and sipped tea until the thermos was empty, and then Kara turned towards the opposite side of the bridge, looking at the raised stern with her hands planted on her hips and a determined look on her face. Lena knew that resisting her help would be futile, and she also knew she’d be grateful for it by the time she was finished packing up the rest of the salvageable items.

 

            Carefully, they helped each other along the sloped roof of the broken boat, reaching out to steady each other with gentle touches on arms, shoulders and backs, as their feet squeaked on the wet wooden roof. The ladder was easier to climb down for the angle is now sat at due to the boat’s slope, but the slant of the deck, the steps into the cabin, and the slick wet wooden floor made it a treacherous task. 

 

            Yet it was bearable, and under other circumstances, would’ve been enjoyable, with Kara’s bubbly company and endless stream of chatter or running commentary entertaining nonetheless. Together, they picked up splintered clocks, parts that had found their way into any crevice big enough to hide in, the tattered books that had been knocked off the counter by the wind and rain and were soggy masses of ink that had bled or warped pages, and cleaned out the food in the tiny kitchen. 

 

            Lena had already packed her bag full of her clothes, and rolled up her satchel of tools, shoving in the dented can of wood polish, a wet paintbrush and a few other items that she found hidden beneath the table or tucked away in some corner. Thankfully, she had few belongings that could’ve been ruined, and it was mostly a matter of righting things that had been knocked over that would have to stay on board.

 

            Eventually, they both made their way back out of the boat, Lena locking it with what felt like sorrowful finality for the time being, hitching her bag up on her back as she followed Kara up the ladder and gingerly made a halting, slipping and sliding trip back down to where the slant of the boat’s roof met the wet stone bridge. A cool hand helped pull her back over the edge of the low wall, and Kara gathered up her red thermos and fell into step beside Lena.

 

            They entered the warmth of the cottage, the lunchtime rush washing over them with a babble of conversation and the smell of food being cooked. Imra was steaming milk at the coffee machine, while Gayle was walking out of the kitchen with three plates in her arms, and they both cast the duo a strange look.

 

            “Since when are we a bed and breakfast?” Imra asked with faint amusement as she swept past with a chai latte perfectly balanced on a saucer.

 

            “Since now,” Kara muttered, giving her a pointed look, “I’ll be upstairs for a bit. Let me know if you need a hand.”

 

            Making for the staircase through the open door, Kara vanished upstairs, and Lena paused to give Imra a slight grimace before following after her. It wasn’t an ideal arrangement, but Lena was grateful for it, and felt some relief as the door to the small room was opened to reveal the crowded space. It was a jumbled mess and gave her just enough room to walk the length of the place, but it was a welcome place to stay for the time being. Until she could get her boat fixed.

 

            “So, um, we can try and move the furniture so you can open the bathroom door,” Kara said, chewing on her lip as she scanned the room.

 

            It was already a tight squeeze, and Lena was almost pressed up against her back, holding onto the straps of her huge bag as she looked around. It had four walls and wasn’t currently flooded, so she was happy with it as it was. But Kara was already shuffling further into the room, and Lena found herself following after her again.

 

            Setting her bag down on the floor and wedging it underneath the bed, she watched as Kara craned her neck to try and figure out how to make some more space. Most of the furniture was heavy wood, solid and sturdy and would take some muscle to shift, which had Lena doubtful that they’d make much headway with it. Still, Kara was shedding her coat and pushing her sleeves up her arms, a determined look on her face that Lena couldn’t help but admire with mild amusement.

 

            And slowly but surely, they rearranged things. Despite the dreary cold outside the curtained window, they both got very warm very quickly, sweat prickling the back of Lena’s next as she strained to help turn an old desk this way, lift an end table on top of it and the old upholstered armchair. Kara was surprisingly strong, dragging furniture with deep, grating sounds that she assured Lena wouldn’t be heard below as they were over the kitchen anyway, and in miniscule ways, they made some extra space. Not exactly enough for Lena to be able to do anything than pace a few feet, but they eventually managed to make enough room for her to slip past the foot of the bed and open the bathroom door, which mercifully swung inwards and made their task more possible.

 

            While they shifted things, stacked boxed up trinkets in treacherous columns, tucked small pieces of furniture beneath other ones, Lena took stock of the items that Kara had hidden away. She found herself excited to work on them, thinking about how they just needed a little bit of love and care here and there, and knew exactly where she’d get started. Throughout it all, the dusty wisteria fashioned Tiffany lamp had sat on top of the dryer, tucked out of harm’s way, and Lena’s eyes burned with the challenge of fixing it. Fixing it  _ and _ confirming whether it was real or not.

 

            By the time they were done, they were sitting side by side on the narrow bed, a few scant feet of space between the edge and the washer and dryer, and a narrow path to the door and to the bathroom. She could almost feel the warmth radiating off Kara as they sat in silence for a few moments, admiring their handiwork, and felt her stomach knot itself.

 

            “I know it’s not much,” Kara started.

 

            “It’s great,” Lena quietly assured her, looking up to give her a small smile, “I’ll try and get the boat fixed as soon as I can though so I can get out of your hair.”

 

            Kara let out a soft laugh, a tender look in her blue eyes as she patted Lena’s knee reassuringly, “it’s no problem, honestly. But I  _ do _ have my boatshed you’ve probably seen on your walks. If you can find someone to tow you out of the archway, you could leave it in there. Have a boatbuilder come and fix it up here.”

 

            “Thank you.”

 

            Shrugging, Kara climbed to her feet and picked up her coat, “right, well, I have some eggs to scramble and tourists to charm. If you want some tea or anything, come downstairs and help yourself. I’ve got pasties in the oven as well; they’ll be done in ten.”

 

            Nodding, Lena slowly climbed to her feet as well, very aware of the fact that she was still wearing Kara’s clothes from last night, and her coat and her boots, and was in her spare room. It all seemed a little surreal, considering the fact that yesterday she’d been stuck on her trapped boat alone, and now she had a new neighbour who was intent on stuffing her with free food and enough kindness to make Lena burst. She didn’t quite know what to do with herself.

 

            “That sounds great, thank you.”

 

            “I’ll leave you to it then. Oh! If you need to use the shower, go right ahead. Towels are in the same spot. Feel free to put your laundry in the basket. Help yourself to toothpaste and all that.”

 

            She spoke over her shoulder as she moved towards the door, and Lena nodded to herself as she followed after her, pulled along as if she was tied to Kara, moving in response to her motions. Finding herself at the door, she gripped the door frame and watched as Kara turned to face her, smiling brightly, before she disappeared down the stairs and out into the bustling café.

 

            Stepping back into her new room, Lena scrounged up an outfit out of her bag and shuffled towards the bathroom door, shutting herself inside and stripping off her clothes. The water was scalding and the bathroom quickly filled with steam as she scrubbed herself clean and then changed into clean clothes. Staring at her pale reflection, Lena took in the faint shadows beneath her eyes, smaller, less noticeable now compared to a few weeks ago. She looked less haunted, less like she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. And after the hot shower, her cheeks had some colour to them.

 

            Brushing her teeth and feeling fresher, she brushed her hair quickly, ran her fingers through her locks, and then found herself having nothing to do. It wasn’t like she could unpack, and she wasn’t quite prepared to get started on the stacks of furniture. As she thought about it, her hand went to the broken wristwatch on the opposite wrist, and she glanced down at it.

 

            In all the years she’d had it, she’d never fixed it. Hadn’t been able to find the parts, hadn’t been able to get all the fiddly bits back together in working order, and she’d spent periods of time, on and off, where she hadn’t been able to bring herself to even try. She’d had the idea to fix it before Paris, and hadn’t made much progress on that front. Now was the perfect opportunity to try again.

 

            Back in Kara’s spare room, Lena pulled her tools out and sat cross-legged on the bed, undoing the watch and cradling it in her cupped palms for a moment. Gently prying the back off, she looked at the mess of tiny gears and minuscule pins, all of it at a standstill. The movement was carefully lifted away in one piece, and Lena disassembled the smattering of loose pieces that she’d accumulated over time, all of them rare original parts for that model of watch. They were rare to come by, and expensive when she managed to find one. There were still a few missing.

 

            Oiling all the parts, she cleaned the inside of the glass cover, made sure the face hadn’t been damaged by rain or other moisture, and fiddled with the tiny pieces as she tried to move them all into place. Yet still, it didn’t tick. Clicking the back into place, Lena strapped it to her wrist again, as good a place as any to keep it safe, and ran a hand through her messy hair. 

 

            Time had slipped by undisturbed, a couple of hours passing by while Lena was absorbed in her work. It was fiddly and mercifully time consuming, and she found herself stiff and hunched over by the time she was done. Rolling her neck from side to side, she stretched her arms out and then kneaded her shoulders, before climbing to her feet. Lena had a mind to go downstairs, much to her surprise.

 

            Tenderly putting away her tools, Lena made her way towards the door, wearing Kara’s boots again, and slipped down the staircase. Lunch rush was in full swing, and Imra caught her eye and gestured for Lena to go behind the counter as she came out of the kitchen with an omelette and a plate of buttered toast. Nodding in thanks, Lena slipped past her and knocked on the door frame as she peered into the kitchen. Kara was mixing a pot at the stove and didn’t turn at the knock.

            

            “Yeah, give me a second, babe. I’m just waiting on the toast.”

 

            “First you’re inviting me over for dinner. Then you’re asking me to move in. Now you’re calling me babe. I’m starting to think you conned me into a relationship without my knowing.”

 

            Kara whipped around, splattering soup everywhere from the wooden spoon she held in her hand, her eyes widening, mouth opening and closing as she found herself speechless, and face red and flushed for a reason other than the heat of the kitchen. 

 

            “Oh! I- I uh, sorry, I just … I thought you were Imra.”

 

            Lena raised her eyebrows as she bit back a smile, a lightness in her chest as she watched Kara stammer as she tried to explain, mopping up drops of creamy broccoli soup with the nearest dish towel, her other hand gesturing wildly. A small lap fell from her lips as she leant against the door frame, arms crossed and eyes sparkling slightly. 

 

            “And I- well, I mean, dinner is just … you don’t  _ have _ to have dinner with me again. I know I said I’d cook for you, but- pastie?”

 

            Pausing in front of a tray of flaky pastries, baked golden on top with egg wash, Kara gave her a wide-eyed expectant look. Closing her eyes, Lena quietly laughed again, shaking her head slightly before she pushed off the door frame and walked further into the kitchen.

 

            Buttering a slice of toast and adding it to a plate, Kara moved towards the door and handed it off to Gayle as the blonde came past, before ducking back inside.

 

            “There’s cheese and onion or corned beef.”

 

            Tilting her head to the side, Lena deliberated for a moment. “Cheese and onion.”

 

            Quickly moving one from the tray to a plate, Kara held it out to Lena, who murmured her thanks and held the plate firmly in her hands. She watched as Kara turned to gas down on the stove and set a lid on the large pot at a slanted angle to let the steam out. Wiping her hands on a dish towel, she paused as she looked at Lena with hope swimming in her eyes.

 

            “Tea?”

 

            “Are you joining me?”

 

            Pale eyebrows raising slightly, Kara perked up, her cheeks still gently flushed rosy pink and a pleased air about her as she quickly scooped up her own pastie. “Sure, I can take a quick lunch break.”

 

            “Great.”

 

            Turning for the door, Lena started to walk out, glancing back over her shoulder as Kara quickly followed after her. A smile lifted one side of her mouth as she arched an eyebrow. “Don’t worry, this doesn’t count as dinner.”

 

            Kara let out a snort of laughter, cheeks turning redder, and Lena smiled to herself as she walked out of the kitchen. They made a stop by the steaming coffee machine, where Kara poured boiling water into a teapot filled with peppermint tea leaves and then into two mugs. 

 

            Lena took one and they both made their way out into the biting air of the afternoon, making for the old picnic table. Kara stood while Lena took a seat. Picking up the warm pastie, Lena took a bite and hummed appreciatively as she looked down at the food. Setting her plate down on the edge of the table, Kara sipped her tea with a hand buried in the front pocket of her apron.

 

            “You know, for an American, your British food is surprisingly really good.”

 

            Kara let out a loud laugh of surprise, rolling her eyes before she sighed in exaggeration. “Yeah, well, I learnt that the hard way.”

 

            Giving Lena a rueful smile at her raised brows, Kara softly laughed, taking a seat beside her on the damp bench and leaning back, elbows on the table. Her eyes were impossibly blue as she stared into the depths of the forest with a grave look in her eyes, mouth turning down at the corners as a crinkle creased the bridge of her nose.

 

            “Let’s just say the locals were about as pleased to see an eager American around here as you were.”

 

            “That bad?”

 

            Quietly groaning, Kara ran a hand over her face and shook her head in resignation, a sheepish smile curling her mouth as her cheeks turned ever so slightly pink. Lena nibbled on the pastie as she waited expectantly, a spark of curiosity in her green eyes as she basked in the weak sunlight breaking through the bank of grey clouds. It looked like it was about to start raining again any second.

 

            “It was …  _ awful _ at the beginning. It took Imra tracking me all the way to here, taking one look at my menu and sitting me down to tell me how bad it was for me to realise that you lot don’t like anything that’s less than a century old.”

 

            “You’d better not be lumping  _ me  _ in with the English,” Lena scoffed, before smiling, “I have to agree with Imra on that count though. Unless you’re in London.”

 

            Kara hummed in agreement as she took a bite of her own food. “I had to agree too. She said that no one in a place this small wanted beetroot in their cake, or quinoa salads and matcha lattes. Not even the tourists. So … pasties, stews and jam tarts.”

 

            “Jam tarts, huh?”

 

            “The very best in the county,” Kara said, giving her a sly wink before she climbed to her feet. “And they don’t bake themselves.”

 

            They shared a small smile and Kara made her way back to the cottage, while Lena lounged on the bench, flakes of pastry dusting her lap as a few miserable bees droned around her, flitting from wet flower to wet flower as raindrops fell in a soothing medley. 

 

            Breathing in the damp, fresh air, Lena ate slowly, taking in the vibrant flowers of early spring with a look of contentment on her face. There was something soothing about the plants, so fresh and lively, and Lena was happy to stay there all day. She sipped refreshing peppermint tea, still steaming in the mug, while the smell of bacon and bread drifted out of the open window. There was the quiet hum of jazz music beneath the banging and clattering from inside, and Lena occasionally glanced towards the window for a glimpse of Kara.

 

            Dusting the flakes off her lap, she climbed to her feet and drained the lukewarm dregs of her tea, before she made her way back inside. Slipping into the kitchen, she smiled as Kara quietly sang along to the jazz music, and stepped up to the sink. It was already full of soapy water, and Kara looked up at the sight of Lena setting her plate down on the counter.

 

            Pushing her sleeves up, Lena gave her a pointed look, before sinking her hands into the hot water and scrubbing a variety of pots, pans, knives and plates. It was soothing, washing the dishes with the music in the background and the sound of something simmering on the stove, the kneading of dough and the dry sound of flour being sifted. Not for the first time, Lena imagined what it would be like to live such a quiet life.

 

            She didn’t linger though, and as soon as she’d finished drying them and piling them carefully on the counter, she murmured a goodbye to Kara and made her way outside. It might’ve been cold, but she was fine in her fleece, zipped up to her neck and a good enough barrier against the biting wind. 

 

            Setting off in a random direction, she tramped over sprouting dandelions and mushroom caps, brushed her fingers along rough bark and fronds of moss that carpeted anything it could grow on. She found a badger’s sett at one point, tunneling beneath the creeping roots of a tree, skirting around it and up over a gentle incline where a crop of brambles were growing.

 

            Walking until her feet were blistering in her borrowed boots, Lena’s mind was left to wander wherever it pleased, birds chirping desolately from their nests, rain pinging against the carpet of rotting leaves as they fell from the creaking branches above. Weak sunlight filtered down green and the smell of earth was rich and cloying. 

 

            Returning back to the cottage footsore with aching calves, Lena let herself into the teahouse as the sun started sinking low on the horizon, shadows lengthening and the cold cutting through her warm fleece. Stamping her feet on the mat inside the door, she quietly closed it behind herself and smiled at Kara as she watched her move through the café with a sweeping brush.

 

            “Good walk?”

 

            “It was okay. Cold.”

 

            “Are you hungry?”

 

            Shrugging indifferently, Lena slowly gravitated towards her, winding through tables and chairs and coming to a stop nearby. Her cheeks were bitten pink and her hair was windswept, made even more unruly as Lena ran a hand through it.

 

            “Need a hand?”

 

            “No, no,” Kara objected, “you go on up.”

 

            Nodding, Lena made her way towards the stairs, glancing back at Kara before she plodded up each step and walked into the bedroom. Kicking off Kara’s boots, she swapped her jeans for a pair of sweatpants and sat down on the creaking mattress. With nothing to do, Lena flopped backwards and relaxed as the tension bled out of her.

 

            Sitting back up, she made the bed, parted the curtains and cracked the window slightly to let a much needed flow of fresh air into the dusty bedroom. The smell of rain mingled with the furniture polish and centuries-old wood and Lena sat with a complacent look on her face as she sat amongst the antiques.

 

            With nothing to entertain her, she set about finding the maker’s marks on as many items as possible, on her hands and knees in patches of dust, peering at the underside of desks and chairs, pulling drawers off the runners to check if there were stamps underneath, feeling for metal plaques nailed to furniture or engraved markings. 

 

            She was on her back, staring at the underside of a bulleted armchair with cracked burgundy leather when there was a quick rap on the door. Feet poking out of the end, Lena started to wriggle out of the low space.

 

            “Come in.”

 

            The hinges squeaked quietly and footsteps entered and stopped a few paced inside the door. 

 

            “Um, hi?”

 

            Scooting out faster, Lena ducked out from underneath the table beside the armchair and peered up at Kara with a mild look of embarrassment on her face. Crawling out from beneath the stacks of furniture, Lena climbed to her feet, wiping dust off her hands and backside as she sheepishly laughed.

 

            “Hi, sorry, I was just- nevermind.”

 

            Kara was standing there with a tray in her hands, laden down with food and drinks, and Lena ran her hands on the thighs of her jeans as she gave her a small smile. 

 

            “Dinner,” Kara said by way of explanation, raising the tray slightly, “I, uh, I thought you might like to eat alone. Thought you might need … space. I’ll, um, set it down here.”

 

            Lena’s eyes widened slightly at Kara’s words, her brow creasing faintly, and she watched as Kara set the tray down on top of the dryer, right beside the wisteria lamp. Stepping back, making more space for Kara in the narrow pathway to the bed, Lena chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, before opening her mouth. It took her a few moments to get the words out.

 

            “Um, do you- I mean, if you’d like, you can … did you want to eat dinner in here with me?”

 

            She got the words out in a rush, and Kara looked at her with surprise. “Really?”

 

            “Yeah,” Lena said, fiddling with her fingers as she gave Kara an apprehensive look. “If you want to.”

 

            Smiling, Kara ducked her head and rubbed the back of her neck, suddenly shy at the invitation. “Yeah, I mean … yeah, that’d be great.”

 

            “Great.”

 

            “I’ll, uh, just go and grab my- just give me a second.”

 

            Lena smiled as she watched Kara trip over herself in her rush to get out of the room. Picking up the tray, Lena moved to the bed, gingerly setting it down on the bedspread and trying not to jostle the mattress too much as she crawled onto it, sitting cross-legged and eyeing the spread before her.

 

            Kara was back in a few moments, arms full as she balanced a few plates and a clean glass of wine, a bottle tucked in the crook of her elbow. Reaching out, Lena gently took a few things from her, relieving her of her precariously balanced meal, and Kara carefully sat down on the edge of the bed.

 

            “It’s creamy broccoli soup. With potato and bacon. Some leek and cheese too. I kind of just … threw it together, but if you don’t like it-”

 

            “It smells amazing,” Lena earnestly replied.

 

            There were a few slices of buttered bread on a side plate, a carafe of coffee fogging up the glass, and a glass of a white wine, sparkling pale yellow in the light. Kara had the rest of the open bottle in hand and was pouring herself a glass, her own bowl of soup cradled in her lap.

 

            In the middle of the bed, they spooned soup into their mouths, butter melting as they dipped bread into it, the wine going down easily, and they fell into conversation with the easy familiarity of friends. It seemed like the wrong word to describe what they were, having only known each other for a few weeks, with stolen moments of banter and shy kindness. Yet she was Lena’s only friend in the world, and she was glad for the company.

 

            Afterwards, they shared coffee from the glass carafe, with Kara pouring some into her empty wineglass, while Lena drank from a clean mug that had been sitting on the tray. Their empty bowls and the plates of crumbs were stacked neatly on the tray, which had been set on the floor, and they both lounged on the bed, head delightfully swimming as they drank the bitter coffee and talked. 

 

            They talked until it was late and Lena’s eyes were burning, the effects of the wine warring with the caffeine humming through her body, and Kara finally took her leave. Tray balanced expertly in her hand, she moved through the piles of junk until she reached the door, Lena trailing after her, and gave her a smile as she reached out to give Lena’s arm a gentle squeeze. It struck Lena that the gesture was becoming achingly familiar, and more intimate than anything else Lena had ever experienced. Just the simple touch, so easy and meaningless, was enough to make her stomach clench and her throat constrict.

 

            “Thanks for the company.”

 

            Lena choked on a quiet laugh, ducking her head as she shook her black tresses. “Anytime. Thank you for dinner. It was amazing.”

 

            “Anytime.”

 

            She lingered for a moment, before stepping out onto the landing. “I’ll see you in the morning then.”

 

            “Right. Goodnight.”

 

            “Sleep well, Éire.”

 

            Eyes closing sleepily, Lena nodded as her lips twitched into the ghost of a smile and she took a step back into the room. “You too, Kara.”

 

            And there was something about the way she said her name that made Lena smile again. That was achingly familiar too, and her voice was soft as it caressed the sound of it. Kara’s expression softened and she nodded as she crossed over to her apartment and let herself in. Both of them stood face to face in their respective doorways for a moment, neither of them wanting to say goodnight, both of them for different reasons, before Kara favoured her with a tender smile and Lena looked away, gently shutting the door. The room felt cold without her.


	14. Chapter 14

_             Sam, _

 

_             I’ve met someone. She reminds me of you. She doesn’t look like you, but there’s so much of you in her. Your light, your kindness, your softness. And your laughs sound so different, but she laughs just like you - pure joy, loud and unabashed - and it makes me feel better just hearing it. And I’m starting to laugh like me again too. It felt like forever before I laughed for the first time since I lost you, and I almost didn’t realise what had happened, only that I felt light inside.  _

 

_             I feel like I have some colour back in my life, as if I have a chance at happiness now. I’m healing, slowly, but when I make it to Paris, I think I’m going to be okay. No matter what the outcome, whether I find you there or not, I think I’ll be okay, and today is the first time that I’ve felt like that since you left. That I’ve believed it. _

 

_             I guess I thought it’d always hurt like this. And I took my anger out on you for hurting me, but I realise now that I was hurting for a long time before you broke my heart. Even now, even when it still hurts so much, I still want the best for you, regardless of what you’ve done to me. I just feel like for so long I haven’t known how to be a person the right way, and I have time to figure that out now. It’s been good for me, being stuck here on this boat on the river. I have nothing but time, and there’s so much thinking to do in that time that I’m starting to understand myself a bit better.  _

 

_             I still miss you though. _

 

_             - Lena. _

 

-

 

            A week later, Lena’s boat was finally freed from the bridge, much to her bitter irritation. She’d been waiting for a couple of months now, and of course, it was after her boat had started breaking that it was finally freed. It wasn’t an easy task though, and she watched from the riverbank, drinking a cup of tea with a dark look on her face as a helicopter buffeted the trees, branches and trunks creaking as they bowed beneath the force of the hurricane the propellers whipped up. It had a crane attached to it and was the only way she’d been able to arrange for her boat to be towed, with no roads leading to the riverbank and no boats small enough to fit on the river and actually be able to pull it out.

 

            The helicopter had dragged it along the surface of the river, the water rippling against the flow of the current in a wide v at the bow, and a few men in hard hats and orange vests waited along the banks as the boat was pulled up onto the muddy bank. Water streamed from the cracks and the old boat groaned as half a dozen pairs of hands grabbed the metal railing of the stern and heaved as the helicopter hovered overhead. They’d rigged up a series of metal poles to help roll the boat towards Kara’s boathouse, and Lena slowly drifted alongside the workers, watching as her narrowboat was pulled through the woods and set onto a boat rack.

 

            The old boathouse smelled of river water, mud and damp wood, an old lantern illuminating the big shed and the stacks of rowing boats and kayaks neatly shelved, while paddles were stacked nearby. It was cramped with Lena’s boat taking up most of the space in the middle, and the doors couldn’t be closed as the bow stuck out a few feet, but Kara had assured her it was fine.

 

            It was a relief to have the boat removed, even if Lena didn’t feel any better about it. The archway beneath the bridge looked oddly empty, and the helicopter and crane had been expensive, although Lena had written the cheque as if was nothing, yet it felt like she was doing something to move forward. It felt like she was less stuck now, although she was essentially still just as trapped as she had been when she’d gotten herself into this mess. At least now Lena could work towards fixing up the boat and getting to Paris.

 

            After deliberation, she’d decided to fix it herself. The chances of anyone in the rural countryside being a master boat builder were slim enough to deter Lena from even trying, and after weighing the decision to pay an expert an exorbitant amount to spend weeks on end in the small town, she’d decided that it was hypothetically within her capabilities to do it herself. Lena had been learning carpentry since she was a child, learning how to strip bark from freshly chopped planks of wood, how to sand it smooth and which polish or varnish to finish it with. How to join pieces together at a perfect angle, how to carve patterns to replace rotten or splintered parts of antiques, how to age the wood to match perfectly. And she knew the basics of electrics too, having worked with intricate electrical clocks and antique lamps. 

 

            How hard could it be to repair the hull and fix the fried circuit? If anything, it was a welcome challenge. It would be a slow process, but it would help pass the time while she sorted some things out with herself. It would’ve been quicker to hire someone else, but Lena didn’t feel like she was in a rush anymore. She’d come to learn to value her time spent healing, to understand that she couldn’t keep going on as she was, and, if she was being honest, she was afraid of moving on. What came next was a terrifying thought. Prolonging it wouldn’t change anything, but it let her dwell in the dream that it would all work out for a little bit longer.

 

            Her time wasn’t completely wasted on brooding though, and she found herself busy, with barely any time for her thoughts to catch up with her. During the day, she stripped old furniture of its varnish, filling the bedroom with the smell of sawdust as she sanded scratches out, until she ran out of varnish and had to go into town for me. She was slowly working on restoring the Tiffany lamp, taking her time with it as she rewired it without destroying the carefully preserved rarity of it. Most days she went for walks, getting up at the crack of dawn to tiptoe out of the cottage and lose herself in the trees or the fields.

 

            And every day she saw Kara. She’d come back from her walks, cheeks flushed with her fleece or jumper tied around her waist as the weather turned warmer, to find Kara in the kitchen with a smile and a cup of coffee for her. True to her word, she whipped up some of the best food Lena had ever had, especially for dinner, trying out things that she couldn’t put on the menu. They ate together nearly every night, sitting at Kara’s round table, drinking wine or cider and chatting long into the night. 

 

            It was a warm day, the sun already streaming in through the window, the breeze laced with the sweet smell of flowers and the freshness of spring, and Lena was lacing up her boots when there was a knock on the door. It could only be one person, and she walked over to yank the door open, a small smile curling her lips as she brusquely rolled up the sleeves of her denim shirt, her hair damp from a shower.

 

            “Hi, are you busy?”

 

            A wary expression flitting across her face, Lena narrowed her eyes slightly as she eyed Kara, taking in the sturdy walking boots, plaid shirt and faded baseball cap. She’d been planning on going to check on the boat, to take stock of things and decide on where to start. 

 

            “Why?”

 

            “I’m going to collect dandelions. I was wondering if you’d like to come.”

 

_             “Dandelions?” _

 

            Kara laughed at her dubious tone, her eyes crinkling at the corners behind her glasses, and flashed her a bright smile. “Yeah! It’s for wine, and, well, it’s  _ kind of _ mead, but not technically. Anyway, it’s for brewing.”

 

            “Um, okay,” Lena slowly said, her eyebrows drawing together for a moment, before smoothing out. “Give me a second.”

 

            A few minutes later, she found herself lingering in Kara’s doorway, smiling at the sight of the grandfather clock proudly displayed near the lacquered partition as it ticked in perfect time, while the blonde rooted around in an old wooden chest, before coming up with two burlap sacks. Kara locked up and they walked downstairs together, Lena holding a sack in her own hands, and out into the mild spring day.

 

            There was still a mild bite to the wind, but it was pleasant as it ruffled her hair and cut through the gentle caress of the sun peeking out from behind wisps of clouds. She followed after Kara as the chef set off with purpose, disappearing into the trees with Lena close on her heels. Neither of them spoke for a few moments, heading further into the thicket of trees, and Lena looked around at the bursting wildlife as squirrels scrambled up tree trunks, birds swooped between the branches, and a rabbit rustled about in the bracken. It felt almost intimate that the two of them were in such a hushed place, alone, and she found herself almost nervous.

 

            “So, how long have you been making your own wine?” Lena blurted out, feeling the need to break the tense silence. Although it was only tense to her.

 

            Kara hummed for a moment, a thoughtful look on her face as she fell into step beside Lena, sack slung over one shoulder and her hand in her pocket. “I made my first batch when I was nineteen. That was part of a retreat I went to though. I didn’t actually start selling my own until I was twenty-four. I used to work at this high-end restaurant, very progressive and innovative, but I’d sell my own products at farmer’s markets whenever I could.”

 

            Lena absorbed her words and filed away the facts as she turned them over in her mind. It was almost hard to imagine Kara in the middle of so much chrome and chaos, the fast-paced environment of a big city restaurant, wearing a white double-breasted chef’s jacket and a skull cap, answering to a head chef as she rushed about. She seemed too at home in the quaint English countryside for that image to take hold in Lena’s mind. One could almost envision Kara having always been there, amongst the trees, picking flowers and berries, turning them into fruity wines and fresh preserves. The slow-moving lifestyle seemed so in tune with Kara’s whole personality. It was hard to imagine her anywhere else.

 

            Yet she revealed more of herself to Lena as they walked. An endless stream of chatter about school and her sister, her friends and a trip she took to Switzerland once, visiting cheese and chocolate factories and climbing the Alps. She was energetic as she talked, her voice soft and full of light, free hand gesturing for emphasis, blue eyes bright and a smile constantly curling her lips. 

 

            Lena tripped over roots and twigs more than once, catching herself in stride, as she found herself fixated on Kara’s face, watching the way she adjusted her glasses, brushed her hair out of her face, the faded scars of burns the dotted her fingers hands from years of cooking. She knew that they were soft, yet there were small calluses from holding a knife for hours on end, from pulling plants up by their roots to use in her latest venture. There were so many parts of her that Lena knew, picking up on them over the weeks, and finding herself desperate to tell Sam about. 

 

            That struck her as the most shocking. She wanted to see Sam more than anything, wanted to hold her close, to stare into her hazel eyes and have her smile at her in the way that Lena loved so much. But she wanted to see her to tell her about Kara. To tell her about the things she’d written to her about in the letters she’d never sent. How Kara cooked dinner for her and let her fix her clock, how they drank coffee together and she made Lena laugh like she hadn’t in a long while.

 

            The maelstrom of emotions inside her were in contrast with each other. She felt warm and cold at the same time, her chest lightened from her time spent on the river, letting go of some of her pain, while her broken heart still ached with darkness and misery inside her. Lena didn’t know how to reconcile the parts. Sometimes it felt like she was two people. The one who was starting to be okay again, and the one that couldn’t live without Sam’s love. And the worst part was that she didn’t know which person she wanted to be.

 

            How easy it was to say that she preferred the warmth and light, the slow mending of her heart and the way she laughed like herself again. But the truth was that the heaviness and aching and cold loneliness of heartbreak came from the fact that she’d felt all of those happier things with Sam before, and by pursuing her, she could get them back. To pretend like she’d never loved her, to give in without a fight, seemed like she was forgetting her, acting as if it had never been real. The pain was a reminder that it had been, and Lena wasn’t ready to give that up yet. It was why she’d put off Paris for so long. She wasn’t yet ready for the threat of disappointment which was all too real a welcome she’d get there.

 

            “It’s this way.”

 

            She blinked herself out of her thoughts at the sound of Kara’s voice, oblivious to her inner turmoil and giving her a curious look as she stood, body angled off through the trees. Lena let out a shaky laugh and quickened her pace, following close behind her as they rustled leaves underfoot. 

 

            “So, how’s the boat?”

 

            “A nightmare,” Lena groaned, running a hand through her hair as she exhaled sharply. “I don’t even know where to start, to be honest. I’ve never fixed a boat before.”

 

            Kara made a disconcerting sound, lips pressed into a flat line, before she shrugged, “I can see if I have a book, if you’d like.”

 

            “What, you just casually happen to have a book on boat making?” Lena asked, her scepticism evident in her voice.

 

            “Maybe. I buy anything and everything from secondhand stalls at the farmer’s market. Mostly cooking and brewing and baking, but I have a good selection. Hey, I think I have one about sea navigation too! That might be handy for sailing.”

 

            Lena’s expression softened and she twisted the burlap sack in her hands, ducking her head in grateful acknowledgement as Kara smiled brightly. Returning the smile somewhat warily, Lena felt confusion rear its head inside her and couldn’t quite put her finger on why. Sometimes, just being with Kara made her feel guilty, as if her friendship was an insult to Lena’s heartbreak. __

 

_             Should  _ she be allowed to be happy when sadness had become such an integral part of who she was? A part of her felt like she didn’t know who she’d be without the grief and anguish and was loathe to let go of the familiarity of such feelings. It was like she was clinging to anything that she was accustomed to out of the necessity to feel like her old self, unsure of who she’d be without those parts of her, and with Kara, she felt like a new person at times, leaving her baggage behind and forming a different version of herself in her presence, and it was jarring.

 

            Whenever Lena caught herself laughing, smiling freely and revealing snippets of herself, it was a shock to her. So much of her life had been steeped in misery, in loss and an ache that had become a permanent fixture to the point where she didn’t even acknowledge it unless it twinged in a painful reminder every so often. To hold all that inside and forget for a brief moment sometimes made everything slam back into even harder than before.

 

            As she struggled through her contrary thoughts, Lena trailed after Kara with little thought of where she was going, pulled along as if she was attached to her by a thread. They moved through small clearings, past natural trails forged by foxes and the odd deer in the area, over fallen trees covered with moss and lichen, before reaching a break in the crop of forest. A carpet of grass filled the small meadow and it bloomed with yellow dandelions, shining golden in the sunlight. 

 

            “Here we are.”

 

            “So we just pick them?”

 

            “As many as you can,” Kara beamed at her.

 

            Nodding, Lena stepped out into the clearing and reached down, tearing a dandelion from the ground, mud clinging to the roots and notched leaves drooping from the stem. Kara let out a burst of laughter, stepping up beside Lena and giving her a sheepish smile as she reached out to give her arm a gentle squeeze.

 

            “Try and leave the roots. I’m going to need them to grow back again.”

 

            Lena’s cheeks turned rosy as she flushed, quickly nodding and dropping the weed into her sack, before crouching to snap a stem in half, shoving the flower into the bag as well. It was peaceful, methodical work, both of them drifting further apart in the uneven clearing. Branches stretched out into empty space, dappling the field of flowers with shadows, blocking the sun from beating down on the back of their necks as they worked. 

 

            Occasionally one of them would make a comment or ask a question, conversation ebbing and flowing. It felt nice to be outside, hands in the dirt with fresh air around her as she did something productive, something new and different. And it felt good to help Kara, to give back to her in some small way, repaying the abundance of kindness she’d shown Lena over the past couple of months.

 

            Slowly, they worked until they’d nearly stripped the meadow bare, their sacks bulging and hands stained yellow, smelling of greenery and earth. There were half-moon crescents beneath Lena’s fingernails as she drew the drawstring around the mouth of the bag, closing it tightly so that none of the flowers escaped. Her lower back was damp with sweat and her thighs burned in a pleasant way from squatting repeatedly. 

 

            Dusting dirt off her knees, Kara beamed at her, hefting her bulging back and taking off her cap. Running a hand across her forehead, she flopped the cap back on and moved towards the gap in the trees where they’d come into the clearing.

 

            “I’m impressed, we got a  _ lot _ .”

 

            Smiling softly, Lena’s cheek dimpled and she shaded her eyes against the sun as she walked beside Kara, lugging her own bag of dandelion heads with her. “Good.”

 

            “Thanks for your help. I would’ve had to come back again in a few weeks when they all grew back.”

 

            “Anytime.”

 

            They were quiet on the walk back, enjoying the presence of each other’s company as they got lost in their thoughts. Plodding along slowly, trampling leaves and snapping twigs, Lena found herself worrying at the jagged edges inside her, finding them dulled as time wore away at her. She was pondering at how she’d slowly started to feel less of the pain, less of the numbness, too lost in her thoughts, when she tripped over a branch, a sharp pain in her ankle as she tumbled down to the floor.

 

            “Oh! Oops, here we go,” Kara said, giving her a kind smile as she turned to look down at Lena sprawled on the floor, extending a hand.

 

            Dark hair in her face, Lena felt her cheeks heat furiously with embarrassment, her sack of dandelions lying a few feet away from where she’d tossed them on the way down. Trying to hide behind her curtain of dark hair, Lena peeked up at the hand reaching down for her, pushing herself to her knees and reaching out to clasp Kara’s hand in her own. It was warm, and Lena was vividly aware of that, feeling her palm turn clammy in Kara’s grip.

            

            Strong arms gently pulled her to her feet, and as Lena put her full body weight on her foot, her ankle buckled beneath her and a small whimper of pain fell from her lips. Kara’s hands gripped her tightly, one on her arm, the other on her waist, and Lena’s mouth twisted in a grimace as her heart fluttered nervously in her chest. Her shirt had ridden up ever so slightly, and she could feel the press of Kara’s fingers against her bare skin above the waistband of her jeans.

 

            “Shit, are you okay?”

 

            “I think I twisted my ankle,” Lena said, closing her eyes as she slowly put pressure on it again.

 

            A sharp pain in her ankle made her quickly stop, standing on one leg well Kara balanced her, their sacks abandoned on the ground. Lena could’ve died on the spot out of embarrassment. Of  _ course _ she’d trip and twist her ankle the one time she went traipsing through the woods with someone else. 

 

            “The cottage isn’t too far from here,” Kara said, her voice coloured with concern, “do you think you can make it if you lean on me?”

 

            Looking up, Lena met a pair of anxious blue eyes and felt her cheeks redden even further, if that was possible. Quickly looking away, her eyes fixated on her dropped sack, and with one hand on Kara, she bent down to pick it up.

 

            “We, uh, we have to carry these too. Maybe if there’s a long branch …”

 

            Picking up her own sack, Kara tucked it under one arm and then wound her other around Lena’s waist, her touch gentle yet solid. The light smell of her perfume enveloped Lena as she turned to her, finding herself close to Kara’s cheek, and her objection died on her lips. Justifying it to herself, Lena made the sound judgement that she couldn’t make it back by herself.

 

            She hobbled the rest of the way back, listening to Kara’s gentle encouragements, leaning against her shoulder and wrapping her arm around her back. It wasn’t too far and the cottage came into sight not five minutes later. Imra was smoking outside, sitting on top of the picnic table, blowing out a stream of thin white smoke as she basked in the warmth of the sun. She raised her eyebrows and clambered off the table at the sight of the duo making their way towards her with their sacks. Cigarette clamped between her lips, she shaded her eyes and frowned, the breeze stirring her apron as she walked towards them.

 

            “Bloody hell, are you alright?” Imra asked, surprise and concern colouring her voice as she flicked ash into the long grass and reached for the sack Lena carried.

 

            “I’m fine.”

 

            “She twisted her ankle. Would you mind taking these down to the cellar while I help her upstairs?”

 

            Imra nodded, holding the burning cigarette between pursed lips as she reached for the other sack. Lena let out a faint sigh as Kara urged her towards the open door, the quiet chatter of the mid-morning lull drifting towards them, and she was towed through the doorway.

 

            Nobody paid them much attention as Kara took her behind the counter, where Gayle gave them a bemused look when they squeezed behind her, where she was serving at the till. Slipping into the stairwell, Kara paused, head cocked to the side as she eyed Lena. The staircase was narrow enough that Lena could easily brush the walls on either side, and she knew that they both wouldn’t be able to fit on the stairs, side by side. She imagined hopping up each step while she braced herself against the walls would be embarrassing, but it was the only way she could get up them. Or so she thought.

 

            “Sorry about this,” Kara brusquely said, “I’m going to have to carry you.”

 

            “Wha-” Lena spluttered a moment before Kara wrapped her arms around her waist, knees bent, and hauled her over her shoulder as if she was a sack of flour.

 

            Lena let out a small cry of surprise, finding herself dangling upside down, Kara’s arm tightly wrapped around her thighs to keep her balanced, while Lena was left staring at her ass. Closing her eyes, Lena resigned herself to the humiliating trip up the staircase, Kara easily carrying her as if she weighed nothing, and then they were in the spare room and Kara was tenderly laying her down onto the bed.

 

            Feeling Kara’s hands beneath her knees and her fingers splayed against her back, Lena turned red, and she buried her face in her hands as she tipped her head back against the pillows. The mattress jostled and springs groaned as Kara sat down on the edge of the bed. 

 

            “Are you okay? Does it hurt?” she anxiously asked.

 

            Lena let out a quiet groan before dissolving into laughter. “I’m  _ embarrassed. _ I’m such a clutz.”

 

            “Hey, accidents happen,” Kara soothingly replied, giving Lena’s arm a quick squeeze.

 

            At the touch of her fingers on her arm, Lena’s hands fell away from her face, and her stomach clenched uncomfortably at the kindness swimming in Kara’s eyes. The blonde gave her a small smile, before turning to look at Lena’s booted feet. Quickly climbing to her feet, Kara gave her a stern look.

 

            “Don’t move. I’ll be back in a second.”

 

            Rolling her eyes, Lena nodded in surrender, laying back on the pillows as she watched Kara disappear back out the door. Softly sighing as her body went slack against the mattress, Lena felt like kicking herself, embarrassment consuming her as she waited patiently for the other woman to come back.

 

            It wasn’t long before Kara bustled back in, arms full and a grim smile on her face. Setting everything down on a nearby table, she sat back on the edge of the bed and gently raised Lena’s legs to wedge a pillow beneath her feet to keep them elevated.

 

            “I’m just going to take your boots off.”

 

            Lena closed her eyes and tipped her head back, face flushed, as Kara unlaced her shoes and removed them one by one. A sudden cold made her jump, eyes flying back open, as she watched Kara tenderly lay a dishcloth against her ankle. It was full of ice or held an ice pack inside it, and a dull burning numbed the ache, much to Lena’s relief.

 

            “Here, this’ll help,” Kara murmured, picking up a glass of water and popping two pills out of a packet of paracetamol, tipping them into Lena’s hand and holding the glass out.

 

            Knocking them back quickly, Lena drained the water, feeling hot from their afternoon beneath the sun, and gave Kara a sheepish smile as the glass was plucked from her hand.

 

            “I have bandages if you want me to wrap your foot for you,” Kara offered, “it’s better if it doesn’t swell.”

 

            “Oh, no, it’s fine, really,” Lena assured her, giving her a fleeting smile, “I’m sure I’ll be back on my feet in an hour or so.”

 

            Making a sound of indignation, Kara raised her eyebrows, “you’d better not be. You need to keep that foot elevated.”

 

            “And I suppose you happened to go to nursing school in between culinary school, huh?”

 

            Giving her a lofty look, Kara raised her chin slightly, “I happen to have my first aid certificate, thank you very much. Too many injuries with knives make for anxious preparation of missing fingers.”

 

            “And look at you, all ten still intact.”

 

            Kara let out a snort of laughter and shook her head, before giving Lena a serious look. “You really should let me bandage your foot though.”

 

            With a soft sigh, Lena gestured towards her foot, and Kara gave her a triumphant smile, before pulling off the sock and carefully binding Lena’s ankle with fresh white bandages. It was tight and she had to bite back a hiss of pain, but afterwards, it felt more supported, and Lena thought that it would support her weight quite well, although she didn’t voice that thought aloud, lest Kara berate her again.

 

            Resting on the bed, warm spring air blowing in through the open window, it was actually quite peaceful, and Kara brought her up a tray with a bacon sandwich, a cup of tea and two little jam tarts - one strawberry and one blackberry - sitting with her and sharing half of the sandwich as they talked. Lena kept her foot elevated the entire time, the pills chasing away the pain as she kept the dishcloth pressed against her foot. 

 

            Disappearing for a few minutes, Kara returned with a few battered paperbacks on boats, navigation and a few romance ones, stacking them on top of the table for Lena to pass the time with, before she left her to her own devices.

 

            Settling down with one of the books about boats, Lena read through the rest of the late morning, undisturbed, finding that it didn’t offer much by way of actually building a boat, but interesting nonetheless. She flipped through the navigating one around lunchtime, Imra knocking on her door at one o’clock to drop in a cup of coffee and an omelette stuffed with vegetables, before disappearing as quickly as she’d come. 

 

            By mid-afternoon, she’d started to doze, book abandoned on her chest, pages splayed, as the day grew later and Kara started closing up shop below. It had been a quiet day, one that ambled by at a leisurely pace, with no demands and no expectations. She’d been free to pick dandelions to her heart’s content and read away the rest of the day, basking in the warmth and slanted rays of sunlight, until she’d fallen asleep without even meaning to.

 

            A knock of the door jerked her from her nap a short while later though, and Lena bolted upright, blinking back sleep as she blearily looked around, book collapsing to her lap. “Um, hello?”

 

            The door opened and Kara poked her head in, her smile changing to a look of surprise as she took in the sight of Lena, hair dishevelled as she blinked owlishly. “Oh! You were asleep. Sorry, I was just checking in on you.”

 

            “No, no, it’s fine,” Lena mumbled, rubbing at her eyes as she swung her legs off the bed and gingerly placed her feet on the floor, one bare and the other bandaged.

 

            She wiggled the toes on her bandaged foot and tried to hide a yawn, taking in the abandoned book and the dishtowel with the ice pack peeking through, soft and warm by now. Running a hand over her face, she gave Kara a tired smile.

 

            “Busy day?”

 

            “Imra and Gayle did most of the work,” Kara shrugged, “I just gave them a hand for the lunch rush. We were flat out.”

 

            “Do you need a hand closing up? Cooking dinner? I promise not to chop a finger off.”

 

            Kara laughed, leaning against the door frame with her arms folded. “No, everything’s nearly taken care of. I was just going to see if you needed anything before I go down to the cellar. I’ve got some dandelions to turn into wine. I’ll be down there for a while.”

 

            Climbing to her feet, gritting her teeth at the dull throb of pain, Lena gave Kara a hopeful look, “oh, well, I’ll come down and help you.”

 

            “You don’t have to do that,” Kara waved aside the offer, “it’s boring work.”

 

            “Then my company will be welcome - I hope.”

 

            Opening her mouth to object, Kara quickly shut her mouth again and let out a light laugh, shrugging helplessly. Smiling, Lena reached for her boots where Kara had set them down on the floor earlier, slipping her feet in and quickly tying the laces, before climbing to her feet.

 

            She tried not to put too much pressure on her right foot and Kara watched with apprehension as Lena walked towards her, both of them stepping out at the top of the stairs. They paused for a moment, before Kara looked down at her, eyes shining with amusement.

 

            “Would you like me to carry you again or …”

 

            Giving her a dour look, Lena snorted, “I think I’ll be okay.”

 

            “If you break your foot, it’s going to be a long trip to the hospital on my bicycle. Just so you know.”

 

            Lena laughed as she slowly started to make her way downstairs, hands grazing the walls on either side as she went step by step, feeling Kara hovering behind her, knowing that she was waiting for Lena to stumble so that she could catch her.

 

            With an air of smugness around her, Lena arched an eyebrow as she turned to find Kara right behind her. Shaking her head, Kara quietly laughed and slipped past her, out into the dimly lit teahouse and behind the counter. Following after her, Lena made her way to the kitchen and over to the door that Kara threw open to reveal a set of steps. She judged it to be beneath the other staircase, by the slope of the ceiling, and made her way down into the dark with some trepidation.

            

            Kara made it to the bottom before Lena even made it halfway, tugging on a string to bring a few naked bulbs to life, and the smell of damp stone, wood and a bitterness that smelled green mingled with the strong smell of liquor, wafting up towards Lena as she shuffled the rest of the way down.

 

            Dark beams ran the length of the cellar, which was the span of the cottage upstairs, although seemed a lot more crowded due to the stacks upon stacks of bottles and kegs. The floor was made from the same flagstones upstairs and the walls were cement, covered in white emulsion and obscured for the most part by rack upon rack. 

 

            Lena scanned the racks and shelves, taking in the handmade labels for kegs of apple cider, pear cider, mixed berry cider. Barrels of and dandelion and burdock mead, apple and cherry ales. Bottles of wine lay flat on the racks, labels hidden, but handwritten names were scrawled onto the wood. Raspberry and cranberry wines, sweet cherry wine, blackberry wines and dandelion, of course. 

 

            Large vats stood along the far wall, where empty barrels were stacks and a long trestle table took up a large portion of the middle of the room, and Lena looked around with unbridled interest. There was so much hidden down there that she hadn’t even known about. 

 

            Taking a seat on one of the tall stools at the table, she watched as Kara pulled a short, empty barrel over to the table and took a seat at a right angle to Lena. Absentmindedly running her fingers over the scarred tabletop, breathing in the odours of fermenting fruits and wood, Lena watched as Kara dragged the metal tub on the table closer.

 

            “Right, so how do we do this?”

 

            The tub, she saw, was full to the brim with yellow petals attached to green stems as the dandelions soaked, where Imra had placed them earlier on in the day. The two women had their sleeves rolled up to their elbows, and the wide-mouthed wooden barrel sat on the floor at the corner of the long wooden counter, within reach of them both.

 

            “Are you sure you want to help?”

 

            “Yes, I’m sure.”

 

            “Okay,” Kara dubiously replied, a sheepish smile on her face as she picked a wet dandelion out of the metal tub and held it in the halo of light cast over them. “So what we do now is pull all the petals off the stem. No green, no leaves. Just the petals.”

 

_             “All  _ the petals?” Lena echoed, a wide-eyed look on her face as she took in the vat of flowers and the tiny petals that sprouted from them all.

 

            Kara chuckled quietly, her lips curling in a smile, and gave her a knowing look of exasperation. “The leaves have this milky sap in them, which  _ ruins _ the wine. So … just the petals.”

 

            Nodding as she squared her shoulders in preparation of what was about to become a lengthy task, Lena met Kara’s sparkling eyes and gave her a small smile.

 

            “Last chance to say no.”

 

            Scoffing, Lena rolled her eyes and reached for one of the weeds, quickly shedding the petals from the stem and leaves, making a small pile on the worktop as Kara quickly stripped her own. The petals were narrow and ranged from rich saffron to butter yellow to a shade that was nearly white underneath.

 

            The petals went into the wooden tub and they made a pile of stems and leaves, before reaching for the next. It was slow but steady work, and they chatted as they plucked petals, water dripping over the worktop and coffee cooling as they worked. It took the better part of two hours for them to make their way through all of them, but time passed by quickly, their laughter filling the spacious basement as they bantered back and forth.

 

            By the time they were done, they had a massive pile of dandelion leaves and a barrel half-full with a decent pile of tiny petals. Watching as Kara picked up the metal tub of sloshing water, Lena twirled a sawtoothed leaf between her fingers, her eyes tracking the blonde’s movements with sharp attentiveness, taking in the way the tendons in her forearms went taught, the easy way she hauled the tub to the wide basin set against one wall and empty the water out of the tub. 

 

            There was a small stove wedged in beside it, glowing orange as it warmed the chilly space with the fire that Kara had been feeding to it over the past couple of hours, and Lena watched as she stowed the cast iron tub beneath the table and filled up a thick iron bucket with water, before setting it over the heat. 

 

            “What should we do with these?” Lena asked, raising the leaf she still held as Kara wandered back over to her.

 

            Face lighting up, Kara gave her a bright smile, “those would be dinner.”

 

_             “Dinner?” _

 

            “Trust me.”

 

            Eyeing the leaf with doubt, Lena found herself holding out judgement until she tried whatever wild concoction Kara was going to try next. So far, she’d been mildly surprised by everything, and was willing to let her scepticism slide until she saw the magic the Kara performed on the ordinary-looking leaves. Lena could safely say she’d never tried eating dandelions before, not even as a child.

 

            Kara spread a cheesecloth on the table, conjured from somewhere in the vast room, and scooped handfuls of leaves onto the thin fabric, enough for the two of them, and gave Lena an excited look, before quickly taking them upstairs. The rest, Lena soon found out, went out to the compost bin Kara kept in the backyard for her plants.

 

            When the water in the bucket started to boil, Kara put on a thick pair of gloves, heaved the bubbling mass off the stove, and carefully poured it over the dandelion petals in the barrel, until they were floating and wafts of steam drifted up in a cloud of white. Stowing the bucket away, Kara fetched a round wooden lid and wedged it tightly on top of the barrel, before patting the top of it.

 

            “Okay, we’re all done.”

 

            “Done?”

 

            Cheeks dimpling as she smiled, running the back of her hand over her forehead, Kara nodded. “I let it steep for four days. The flavour comes through better that way.”

 

            “Oh.”

 

            “Shall we have dinner?”

 

            Lena nodded, smiling as she slipped off her stool and started for the staircase. Kara followed behind, pausing almost as an afterthought and plucking a bottle from one of the racks, before making her way upstairs. 

 

            Fetching the bundle of dandelion leaves from where she’d deposited the cheesecloth on the counter, Kara waved Lena’s offer to help aside and led them both upstairs to her apartment, where Lena was promptly ushered into a chair and served a glass of pear wine, which Kara hastily shoved into a bucket of ice to chill. 

 

            Jazz music hummed in the background, the old stereo tuned into what Lena quickly came to notice was Kara’s favourite station, and a frying pan sizzled over the heat as Kara chopped and softly sang. Drinking the sweet-tasting wine, enjoying the view of fading sunlight through the windows as a mild breeze cut through the warmth of the apartment, Lena found herself content. It was a strange feeling to her, but in that moment she truly was. 

 

            There was no pressure to talk as Kara cooked and she got lost in her own thoughts. And it surprised Lena that she was thinking of Sam again - thinking about what to write to her in her next letter. Write about how she was helping Kara make wine, and how she’d been carried up the stairs over her shoulder, how they’d picked dandelions for hours and she’d finally fixed the Tiffany lamp and was waiting for the right moment to surprise Kara with it. There was so much happening in her life now that the pain of losing her love and her best friend didn’t hurt quite so much.

 

            “You’re very thoughtful this evening,” Kara commented, breaking Lena out of her reverie ten minutes later as she set a plate down in front of her.

 

            Blinking herself to the present, Lena looked down at the pink flesh of a steelhead trout, the silvery skin crispy beneath it. It had been baked in butter with dill and a lemon and garlic dressing, and Lena was pleasantly surprised. Even the pile of dandelion leaves, tossed with roasted pine nuts and sprinkled with crumbled goat’s cheese, looked good. 

 

            She smiled softly up at Kara, “just thinking about today. I had fun, thank you.”

 

            Eyebrows rising, Kara smiled widely, taking a seat across from Lena and topping up both of their glasses. “You did?”

 

            “Mhm. It was nice.”

 

            “I had fun too,” Kara said, picking up her fork as she smiled, cheeks flushed a gentle pink and blue eyes creasing at the corners. 

 

            Lena smiled faintly and cut a piece of trout away from the skin, spearing dandelion leaves onto her fork with it and taking a bite. It was surprisingly good, and she gave Kara begrudging look as she chewed, tasting the wild garlic and lemon dressing on the salad, meeting Kara’s expectant look with resignation.

 

            “I don’t know  _ how _ you keep throwing these random dishes together, but they’re so  _ good.” _

 

            “You like it?”

 

            Reaching for her wine, Lena took a sip as she nodded vigorously, “yeah, it’s amazing. You’ve tricked me again.”

 

            “Hopefully you’ll like dessert too.”

 

            “Dessert?”

 

            Shrugging, Kara’s cheek dimpled as she gave Lena a crooked smile, “I had some extra time today. I thought you might stay for coffee and cake.”

 

            “Cake, huh?”

 

            “I guess you’ll find out.”

 

            Giving her a coy look, Lena picked up her knife again, trying hard to bite back her smile. “I have a surprise for you too.”

 

            “Oh yeah?”

 

            “Mhm. I guess you’ll find out.”

 

            Kara let out a loud laugh, leaning back in her chair as she gave Lena an appraising look, eyes narrowed ever so slightly as if she was trying to uncover something about her. It was quite scrutinising and it made Lena shy, ducking her head as she took another bite of fish.

 

            “Do you like the goat cheese?”

 

            Lena swallowed as she nodded, “yeah. I still haven’t seen a goat hidden around here, so I’m guessing you didn’t make it.”

 

            Snorting with laughter, Kara gave her a droll look. “No, that one is courtesy of Jack. He went to the farmer’s market last week and brought it back for me. Speaking of which, remember how I told you I was going to one soon? It’s this weekend, and seeing as you  _ are _ still here … do you still want to come?”

 

            Eyebrows rising, Lena blinked in surprise. “Oh. Yeah, I, uh, I’d love to.”

 

            The smile Kara gave her was so warm, so genuinely full of delight and happiness, that Lena didn’t quite know how to react. A lump rose in her throat and she found it hard to swallow as a sudden pain flared up in her chest. It was infuriatingly frustrating. She’d been doing so well all day, and now it struck her, as dusk was coming to a close, when the long stretch of night was sweeping in. 

 

            She  _ hated _ the night, had come to loathe those hours of solitude and loneliness, knowing that Kara was just a few steps outside her door, but feeling so alone anyway. It didn’t matter how packed her days were, how much Lena felt like things were okay; all it took was one reminder to catch her off guard, and all her bottled up feelings started escaping again, rising to the surface within.

 

            Silent, for the most part, they ate their dinner and Lena quietly thanked Kara for it, her smile just a little bit smaller, as if her heart wasn’t quite in it. At times, she found it hard to find the energy to pretend, but there were moments where it was so effortless that she had to try and  _ stop _ herself from laughing when she was with Kara. It was like she was two different people some days. Yet Kara never complained at her sudden bouts of solemn quietness, at her hot and cold attitude, and Lena was silently grateful for it.

 

            “Hey, why don’t you take the cake out with you,” Kara said as she cleared their plates from the table, Lena bringing the wine glasses with her. “You probably want to rest that foot.”

 

            Lena knew it was a free pass to get out of dinner and be by herself, but she didn’t  _ want _ to be alone. She’d have plenty of time for that later, when her thoughts wouldn’t leave her alone long enough to sleep, and Lena was quick to dissuade Kara from the idea.

 

            “My foot’s feeling fine. Besides, I doubt we’ll be standing.”

 

            “Okay,” Kara murmured, a flicker of some unreadable emotion in her eyes as she glanced at Lena, relieving her of the glasses, “but you should still stay off it. Go, sit.”

 

            Scoffing, Lena gave her a slight smile, “if that’s your way of strongarming me into  _ not _ doing the dishes-”

 

            “It is.”

 

            “Well, I guess I’ll go and sort out my surprise then.”

 

            She raised her eyebrows suggestively, a smile playing on her lips, before she made herself scarce, leaving Kara up to her elbows in bubbles. Crossing the few steps that separated their doors, Lena made her way into the room and quickly dug out the lamp from where she’d kept it hidden, not wanting Kara to see the gleaming mosaic of glass and the shiny metal stand. 

 

            Cradling it gently in her arms, she smiled, before shifting it behind her back, hiding it from view. Making her way back towards Kara’s room, she stepped back inside, fumbling behind her to shut the door while making sure she didn’t drop the lamp, and gave Kara a slightly smug look as she moved across the room.

 

            “What’s behind your back?”

 

            “I suppose you’ll find out in a minute.”

 

            Scrubbing the rest of the dishes as quickly as she could, Kara dumped a few spoonfuls of coffee into her french press, put the kettle on to boil and moved over to where Lena was sitting on the bulleted sofa. The tan leather was soft, and she reclined on the wide seat, the lamp hidden by her legs and feet, until Kara neared her.

 

            With a flourish, Lena procured the lamp with a smile, setting it down onto the laden coffee table and gesturing grandly towards it. 

 

            “Tada.”

 

            “You  _ fixed it?” _ Kara incredulously asked, moving to pick up the lamp, turning it in the amber glow of light as the glass lampshade shone richly, greens and blues and faint cracks in each pane on display, free from the dust that had coated it.

 

            Picking up the plug at the end of the cord, Lena waved it slightly to get Kara’s attention. “Why don’t you plug it in and find out.”

 

            Laughing, Kara excitedly set the lamp back down on the coffee table and moved towards the nearest plug socket set into the wall. The cord was long enough for it to reach, and she jammed the plug in and flipped the switch, before turning on the lamp and gasping in surprise as a myriad of colours splayed across the floor from the sudden burst of light.

 

            Lena laughed at Kara’s cry of surprise and the look of complete and utter joy on her face. It made her feel somewhat satisfied, knowing that the time she’d spent on the lamp hadn’t been for nothing. It was rewarding, and she cupped her cheek in her hand, elbow propped up on the arm of the sofa, watching as Kara marvelled at the clock with unabashed delight.

 

            And then, much to Lena’s surprise, Kara quickly moved towards the sofa, flopping down beside her and threw her arms around her in a tight hug, still laughing. Eyes wide with a startled look on her face, Lena hesitantly brought her arms up to return the hug somewhat softer, before she slowly sank into it and held Kara tighter. Somewhere inside her, something loosened ever so slightly, some knot of frustration and bitterness coming undone at the touch of Kara’s warmth pressed up against her.

 

            She could smell the freshness of the outdoors, earthy and green, and the sweetness of the wine they’d been drinking, mingling with garlic and the tartness of lemon. Closing her eyes, Lena took it all in. The way Kara’s chin dug into her shoulder, the way her broad chest and strong arms enveloped her, making her feel small and secure in a way that was completely unfamiliar to Lena, her loose hair that tickled Lena’s cheek and the way it stretched on for just a moment too long, with Kara squeezing her gently before pulling back.

 

            “Thank you  _ so much.” _

 

            Lena looked away, waving a hand dismissively as she quietly chuckled, hyper-aware of the fact that Kara was still sitting so close to her. “It was no trouble at all. I enjoyed it.”

 

            Clasping her hands to her chest, Kara glowed with happiness, her cheeks rosy and a smile curling her lips as she stared at the lamp. “I can’t believe you fixed it!”

 

            Mumbling vague nothings about how it had been easy, not to mention it, that she’d been happy to do it, Lena found herself getting flustered by the praise and gratitude. She was glad when the kettle started to quietly whistle to signify that the water was boiling, deflating slightly as Kara brushed past her knees and quickly raced over to it.

 

            They were both soon sitting side by side, basking in the light from the lamp, eating a light orange and almond cake, warmed up just a little bit, and drinking coffee, and just like that, Lena felt completely content again. She had the feeling that she would’ve been perfectly happy to spend her days like that day for the rest of her life.


	15. Chapter 15

_             “What’s wrong?” Lena asked, her tone anxious as worry flickered in her eyes. _

 

_             “Why would you think there’s anything wrong?” Sam nervously asked, giving Lena a strained smile as they strolled along, side by side. _

 

_             It was autumn, dead leaves blowing past, the trees painted red and orange, and the air in Metropolis had a bitterly cold edge to it, speaking of the cold that was yet to come. They were walking through Metropolis Central Park, hands buried in their pockets, scarves wound around their necks, enjoying the brisk air as it turned their cheeks pink.  _

 

_             They walked over a wide bridge crossing a steely grey lake, Sam’s eyes trained on the young girl riding her bike a short way ahead. The wind rippled on the surface of the water and ducks splashed in the shallows, hidden amongst the reeds, while small silver fish darted by quickly. _

 

_             “Because,” Lena slowly said, gently biting her bottom lip as she tried to find the words, “you’ve barely said a word to me all day.” _

 

_             Reaching out for her arm, Lena pulled Sam to a gentle stop, turning her to face her. Cheeks pinking slightly, Lena let out a shaky laugh, finding herself shy as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. _

 

_             “If it’s about the other night ...” _

 

_             Sam exhaled softly, a troubled look in her hazel eyes as she stared out at the water, before turning to check on her daughter. _

 

_             “Ruby! Don’t go too far.” _

 

_             “Sam?” _

 

_             With a small smile, Sam reached out and gave Lena’s arm a gentle squeeze. “Don’t worry about it. Just forget it ever happened.” _

 

-

 

            The rest of the week passed by quickly, with stacks of thick planks of rich cedarwood and enough tools to outfit a carpentry workshop delivered to the cottage, and Lena finally got started on trying to repair her boat. Holed up in the boathouse, a few propane lamps illuminating the place, Lena managed to get the cracked and rusted metal coating off the bow of the boat, a rain of rusted flakes of iron cascading to the ground as rotting wood splintered beneath the crowbar and heavy hammer that made the metal ring like a dull bell.

 

            It was tiring work and the progress was slow, but eventually, she was left with a near bare skeleton of a hull, the frame of it still quite sturdy and solid, even if the wood was damp and rotting away in small patches. Lena wasn’t too concerned about that; she only needed the boat long enough to make it to Paris. It didn’t matter if it fell apart afterwards.

 

            She got started on drilling the heavy planks of wood into place, slowly bending them until they curved near the bow and stern and ran along the rest of the narrowboat. It took her over an hour to find just one row of planks, the smell of sawdust mingling with the musty smell from the handsaw she’d used to trim the ends off the planks. The following few days leading up to Sunday were full of contemplative walks, hot weather, hours spent cooped up in the gloomy boathouse, and then more hours spent cooped up in her bedroom, sprucing up Kara’s antiques.

 

            And in between, was Kara. Always hovering around, as if  _ was _ her home, with a cup of coffee ready for Lena, a freshly baked croissant or stack of toast with marmalade plated up, and she stopped by the boathouse intermittently, perching on a stool as she watched Lena work and asked questions. Lena patiently answered them all in between sawing and drilling and hammering. 

 

            Sunday dawned bright and sunny, and Lena showered and dressed in a thin t-shirt and a pair of dark jeans, her customary walking boots laced on and, surprisingly, excitement kindling her inside at the thought of the farmers market. Quickly brushing her teeth, Lena made her way downstairs, where Imra and Gayle were already setting up for the day, and found Kara in the kitchen.

 

            “Ah! There you are,” she beamed at Lena, carrying a crate up from the cellar, glass bottles rattling and her biceps straining.

 

            Kara was wearing a white sundress, half of her hair clipped back, and had already made a stack of other boxes in the kitchen. Lena suspected they were full of jams, honey and other preserves that Kara had made to be sold at markets. 

 

            “Do you want a hand?”

 

            Carefully easing the crate down to the floor, Kara dusted her hands and smiled, “all done! Jack will carry the keg up for me when he gets here. Breakfast?”

 

            Before Lena could reply, Kara was holding a pair of tongs and plucking sizzling sausages out of a frying pan, cutting them lengthways and nestling them onto a slice of buttered bread. She squeezed a healthy dose of ketchup over them, put the other slice on top and cut the sandwich in half on a plate. A cup of coffee was poured from the french press on the counter and set in front of Lena, who quickly wolfed down the sandwich and chased it down with the coffee.

 

            She was just taking her last sip as someone knocked on the door frame and she turned to watch Jack duck in through the door. His beard was neatly trimmed and he ran a hand through his hair as he gave them a bright smile.

 

            “Morning, ladies.”

 

            “Hi! Coffee before we go?”

 

            “Ta,” Jack said, before yawning widely and accepting the cup off Kara as she similarly made him a sandwich. “Bringing a keg today?”

 

            Nodding, Kara hastily tidied up, wiping her hands on a dishcloth. “Mhm. Sweet apple cider this time. I’ve got four of the other smaller ones for tasting.”

 

            He mumbled in acknowledgement, swallowing his mouthful and taking a swig of coffee, before he disappeared through the cellar door, his footsteps heavy as he made his way downstairs. Kara picked up a small keg under one arm and a box of what looked like soaps and candles. Hurrying to help, Lena picked up a crate of wine and Kara gave her a grateful smile as she made her way out of the kitchen. 

 

            They carried her wares out the back, down the path leading to the parking lot, and loaded them onto the bed of the faded red truck parked at the end of it. Passing by Jack, who had the massive barrel on one shoulder, they made their way back inside to pick up more boxes. By the time they were finished, the bed of the truck was half full of Kara’s wares, and Jack was sitting behind the wheel with Kara climbing in beside him.

 

            Hoisting herself up into the cab of the truck, Lena slammed the door shut and buckled herself in, the three of them cramped on the beige leather bench. The engine loudly roared to life and Lena wound down her stiff window, Jack’s already open with the man’s arm slung outside as he steered them with one hand.

 

            Making their way down the bumpy, narrow path between the trees, they finally made it to the smoother tarmacked roads of the nearby hamlet, and then passed through, onwards on the twisting country roads. Green stretched out in every direction, as far as the eye could see, the sky eggshell blue as stray, puffy clouds ambled past, and herds of cows and sheep, and the odd few horses, grazed in fields. 

 

            Kara fiddled with the radio until she found one that wasn’t full of static, her and Jack talking about business while Lena enjoyed the warmth on her face and the wind ruffling her hair. They were heading for a seaside town on the south-east coast of England called Folkestone, a short drive away, made longer by the fact that there was a flock of sheep blocking the road.

 

            They were delayed for half an hour, sitting with the engine rumbling loudly, Lena replying but listening to the conversation for the most part. By the time the road was clear, they’d made the decision to stop at a local pub for a Sunday roast after they’d finished at the farmers market, and not ten minutes later, they were pulling up in a parking lot outside an old hall.

 

            It was spacious, made with old brown stone, the windows and blue door trimmed in white, and there was a faint odour of paint as they carried their trestle tables inside that hinted at the place recently having been renovated. People were already starting to set up in the large hall, and the trio set their tables up and made trips back and forth the truck, with Kara directing them as they made pyramids with jars of jam, arranged bars of soap and tiers of different flavours of wine on the display stand.

 

            By the time it hit ten o’clock and the farmers market started, they’d just finished toying with the last few changes, and Lena found herself lingering behind the table with Kara, perching on the barrel of cider, while Jack excused himself to go and look around at the other wares.

 

            Kara encouraged Lena to have a look around as well, but she was content to stay and keep her company for the time being, observing her as she watched Kara chat away with interested customers, explaining how she made the candles from the beeswax collected from her hives, handing out tiny cups of different flavoured ciders in the small casks, and spreading jam or honey onto thin slices of bread cut from a fresh baguette she’d made early that morning.

 

            Her products sold well, the crates of wines and ciders dwindling, the jars of jams and pickled onions, homemade mustard and relishes sold in batches, and Lena let the hum of conversation that filled the hall wash over her as she people watched. 

 

            There was a stall nearby that sold little cakes, another with smoked hams and links of cured sausages. Jack was talking to a woman who was selling fresh fruit and vegetables with a familiarity that spoke of passing acquaintances, while a stall with a variety of wheels of cheese stood beside it, and on the other side, a vendor selling warm pies. 

 

            The first hour passed by quickly, and Lena decided to stretch her legs, murmuring to Kara before she slipped out from behind the table and joined in the steady flow of curious customers and strays that had come in to look. She passed by a jewellery stall, fingering her swallow necklace, passed by a man selling handcrafted leather belts, wallets and bags, slowly circling the room.

 

            She ended up buying three cakes from the stall near Kara, choosing different ones in case Kara and Jack had a preference, as well as a small wheel of brie cheese, a secondhand book about cheese, and three cups of tea, which she took back to the stall with her. 

 

            Handing the tea and bags of cakes over to Kara, insisting that she pick first, Lena encouraged her to go and take a walk. The market still had an hour left by that point and it was quite warm inside the hall, despite the sea breeze that swept in, smelling faintly of salt and fish from the docks. There were price labels in front of every item, and Lena assured her that she knew enough basic math to sell a few pots of honey and pickles. 

 

            Smiling brightly at the thought of taking a break to look around the stalls, Kara finally agreed, taking her cake and tea with her, along with Jack’s too, leaving Lena with an apple turnover to make her way through as she waited for customers.

 

            While she didn’t have the natural gift of charming people with a sunny personality like Kara did, Lena still managed to sell three bottles of cider, two candles and a variety of the jarred products and was just offering some bread slathered in honey when Kara reappeared. With a smile, Kara slipped back behind the table, giving Lena’s arm a gentle squeeze as she made her way past her, setting down a few paper bags and taking a seat on a crate.

 

            Selling one of the jars of wildflower honey, Lena put the money in a little bag that Kara was using and then turned around, giving her a small smile as she made for the barrel and perched on top of it again with her apple turnover.

 

            “Get anything good?”

 

            Beaming, Kara quickly dug out a jar of olives, little red peppers stuffed with mozzarella balls, and a new type of tea leaves to try. Lena watched with amusement as she pulled out a few more items, everything from a new hand-carved wooden spoon to a postcard with a grey heron on it, which she didn’t explain, to a paper bag of strawberry bonbons from the sweet stall. She shared the latter with Lena as they waited out the last forty minutes of the market, Kara serving more customers in between conversation, until she was nearly out of alcohol and had sold all of the jars, aside from a few jars of mustard and marmalade. 

 

            Jack was back by the time they started packing up, and Kara chatted to a man that had come in, the apparent buyer of the keg of cider Lena had been using as a seat, while Lena quietly stowed the wares back in their boxes to be loaded back onto the truck. It was quicker and lighter the second time around, and soon enough she was crammed in between Kara and Jack on her way to the local pub.

 

            Finding a small table, they all ordered the roast dinner and Lena revelled in the normalcy of it all. Kara didn’t get to go to the farmer's markets that often, or so she’d gathered, but Lena couldn’t help but imagine what it must be like to spend Sunday’s like that. It was barely one o’clock and the afternoon had been spent preparing homemade wares, driving through the picturesque countryside and mingling at a local market. And now, as they sat in the pub, cutting into Yorkshire puddings and tenderly cooked beef, Lena couldn’t help but marvel at the fact that this was Kara’s life.

 

            It was so peaceful and  _ nice. _ She wore sleeveless sundresses in the summer and made jam and collected honey from her bees, had a bathtub full of books that she loaned to people and had a shed of rowing boats to take out onto the river. Not for the first time, Lena envied her. She envied her so badly that she couldn’t help but  _ want _ that life for herself. It wasn’t her, wasn’t the life she’d lived at all, but it was so different, so calm and healing, that she imagined that nothing bad could happen to her in a place like this.

 

            Preoccupied, she picked up the bill for their dinner and was quiet on the drive home. It was still early, the wind warm and the air laced with the smell of flowers, and she rested her head against the door, feeling the warmth of Kara’s arm against hers as they made the bumpy ride home back along the winding roads. It didn’t even occur to Lena that she’d thought of the cottage as home, she just sat there knowing that they were going back to Kara’s, and she was going with her.

 

            She helped unload everything again once they were parked up at the end of the garden path, before she disappeared into the woods, taking a walk to give her ankle some exercise as she soaked up the fresh air, collecting wildflowers she found growing in clumps on the far side of the river. Kara was busy helping in the kitchen, tidying up and preparing a soup for tomorrow, and Lena was happy to occupy herself.

 

            With a fistful of flowers, she made her way towards the boathouse, depositing the flowers in a mug half-full of water from the day before, and worked by lamplight until the sky was streaked with violet and her fingers were sore from gripping the saw and hammer. Brushing sawdust off her lap, she picked up the mug of flowers, turned off all the lamps, and trudged towards the glimpses of yellow light between the dark trunks.

 

            Kara was in the café kitchen, washing the last few dishes with a pink apron tied over her sundress, and Lena paused in the doorway to watch her for a few moments, taking in the smattering of freckles on her tanned shoulders, the way her golden hair fell in her face as she absentmindedly scrubbed a plate clean, reaching up to scratch an itch on her chin and leaving bubbles behind. Smiling, Lena rapped on the door frame, making Kara jump slightly.

 

            “Hi.”

 

            “God, you scared me,” Kara laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners as her cheeks turned pink. “You were out there for a long time.”

 

            Holding the mug in hand, Lena shrugged as she leant against the door frame. “I have a bad habit of getting lost in my work.”

 

            “That’s not a bad thing. It means you love what you do.”

 

            “I suppose,” Lena mumbled, before pushing off the door frame and stepping into the spacious kitchen, extending the mug. “I, uh, I found these. You can have them if you’d like.”

 

            A wide-eyed look of surprise flashed across Kara’s face as she dried her hands on a dishtowel and hesitantly reached out. She looked pleased and Lena found that she was happy about it. 

 

            “Thank you! They’re so pretty.”

 

            There were a bunch of them growing on the other side of the river. I thought you- well, I thought you’d like them. I’ve seen flowers in here before so …”

 

            A small laugh slipped past Kara’s lips and she covered her mouth with her fingers, hiding a smile as she reached out with her other hand to take the mug off Lena, their hands brushing ever so slightly.

 

            “What?”

 

            “Nothing,” Kara quickly said, dropping her hand. She was biting her lower lip and paused for a moment before laughing again. “It’s just … well, this yellow one is a turnip plant. And these, uh, these little purple ones … they’re potatoes. The colour means that the potatoes are ready for harvesting.”

 

            Lena floundered for a moment, feeling embarrassed, and she reached up to rub the back of her neck as she felt her face flush. “Ah, right. That wasn’t in the handbook I read.”

 

            Kara gave her arm a reassuring squeeze as she gave her an earnest look. “It was very thoughtful. Really. I appreciate it.”

 

            Shrugging off her gratitude, Lena ducked her head down, toying with the cuff of the plaid shirt she’d untied from her waist and slipped on as it had grown cooler outside. Summer was only a short while away, the first hints of it already on its way in, and Lena was struck by sudden surprise at how long she’d lingered at the teahouse. The swallows positively crowded the place now, everywhere she looked, while bees bumbled around in droves. Spring had come and nearly gone and she was still there.

 

            “Shall we have dinner?”

 

            She blinked at Kara’s interruption and nodded, giving her a tiny smile, before she was ordered to sit at the island counter in the kitchen. Usually, when they ate together it was in Kara’s room, but they were both already there, so Lena was set up with a glass of deep red wine, this one tasting of cherries with a faint taste of honey, and watched as Kara rolled out dough. 

 

            The air flooding in through the open windows, fluttering the blinds, was cool, and the heat radiating from the stove cut through it perfectly. Crickets chirped in the plants beneath the windows and the air was heavy with the smell of the river and flowers. 

 

            Drinking wine in silence, Lena watched as Kara carefully sliced chicken with a rapidness that had Lena scared she was going to chop off a finger, and somewhat amused by the fact that she was glad Kara had her first-aid certificate. She diced garlic and grated lemon with the same deftness to her movements, as if it was all second nature, chatting aware without a flicker of concern for the knives she waved around or the fingers holding the ingredients steady on the chopping board. Even more nerve-wracking was the fact that Kara sipped wine in between too.

 

            Before long, thick, neatly cut strips of freshly made spaghetti Kara had cut from the dough were being blanched in a bot of bubbling water on the stove, while the chicken cooked in oil and herbs. Flames licked around the skillet as Kara effortlessly shook the pan, telling Lena about the time a foal with a broken leg had shown up at her door during a storm and how Kara had wrapped it in blankets and kept it by the fire upstairs, feeding it bottles of milk until she could walk it to the vet’s in town the next morning. 

 

            Elbow propped up on the table, Lena listened with rapt attention, drinking in the words and the way Kara talked, gesturing with her wine as it sloshed around dangerously in her glass. She was a vision to watch, and Lena was enraptured. 

 

            The Fettucine was light and perfect after the heaviness of the roast dinner earlier on, and they sat at right angles laughing at a story Kara was telling as they twirled pasta around their forks, seeming like the only two people in the world for all they noticed of the outside world. They spoke about the market and Lena’s time in London and the horologists association, about boarding school and how Kara had broken her arm when she rode a horse for the first time and fell off.

 

            It was all inconsequential, meaningless things, but Lena felt like she knew her because of those little things. She knew about the scar on her head and the way she took her coffee, she knew she preferred red wines and her favourite jazz singer was Ella Fitzgerald. It was  _ almost _ like she had a friend, although the circumstances didn’t seem right to label it as such. She was just a guest, paying board to stay while she fixed her boat. In a few weeks, hopefully,  _ Tess _ would be fit to sail again.

 

            “Right, I have a proposal for you,” Kara said as she removed their empty plates, Lena slouching on her stool, full of pasta and light-headed from too many glasses of wine. “The wine is ready for the next step if you’d like to help.”

 

            Perking up, Lena gave her a smile, excitement kindling in her chest as her curiosity was sparked. “I’d love to! Just give me a second; there’s something upstairs I want to get.”

 

            “Oh, sure, no rush. I’m going to prep some snacks for us; we might be a while again.”

 

            Lena still rushed, quickly making her way upstairs to where she’d deposited the book and grabbed the brie cheese as an afterthought, before making her way back downstairs. In the kitchen, Kara was washing a bunch of green grapes, dewy water clinging to the fruit, and set them down on a wooden platter, where half a baguette was already resting.

 

            “I bought cheese today,” Lena said as she set it down on the counter.

 

            “Great!” Kara smiled, unwrapping the waxed paper and popping it on the platter, before spooning her newly bought olives and stuffed peppers into little bowls and neatly arranging them on there too. 

 

            Lena grabbed the bottle of wine and their nearly empty glasses, the paper bag with her book tucked under one arm, and eagerly followed Kara down into the dark cellar, limping ever so slightly as she was forced to put her weight on her bad ankle for brief moments. She made it to the bottom without incident though and set their glasses down on the trestle tables as the sharp smell of alcohol and sweet fruit struck her. The paper bag with the book was set on top of a stool, out of Kara’s line of sight for the time being, and Lena gave her an expectant look as Kara set the platter down.

 

            “Now what?”

 

            Clapping her hands together, Kara smiled widely, “now, we strain it, add a little flavour, and put it in the vat to ferment.”

 

            Making a quiet sound of intrigue, Lena watched as Kara set a metal pot on the small old fashioned stove, before shifting the heavy barrel they’d poured the dandelion petal into at the start of the week. She let it thud into place in front of the stove and pried the wooden lid off, and smiled at Lena in the shadowed light of the cellar as she beckoned for Lena to come closer.

 

            “The cheesecloths need to be held tightly over the pot so the petals don’t fall in,” Kara instructed, rummaging around on a shelf and digging out a small jug. 

 

            Lena moved over to her side, unfolding the thin layers of cheesecloth and draping it over the pot, while Kara dipped the jug into the barrel and filled it with the steeped water. Holding two sides of the cloth tightly over the pot, Lena watched as Kara quickly poured a stream of liquid over it, petals piling up on the cloth as they were strained out of the mixture.

 

            Over and over again, until the barrel was empty and the pot was full, they repeated the process. Then, at the trestle table, they roughly sliced oranges, lemon and limes, adding them to the simmering mixture, before peeled garlic and a measure of dried cloves were tossed in with a shocking about of sugar. The air was full of the smell of citrus and garlic, and Kara stirred it with a long wooden spoon as it came to a bubble.

 

            Leaving it on the heat to infuse, they took a seat at the table and Kara poured them fresh glasses of the cherry wine and they picked at the platter, spreading the soft cheese over slices of crusty bread, picking at Italian sausage and olives marinated in chilli. The mixture bubbled quietly on the small stove and Lena swallowed the pepper she was chewing, wiping her oily fingers on the thighs of her jeans, before quietly clearing her throat.

 

            Reaching for the paper bag, she slipped the book out and clutched it between two hands, peeking up at Kara, who had her head tilted back as she drained her wine, exposing the slender curve of her throat. Pulling the book out from under the table, Lena held it under the pool of light and watched as Kara cocked her head to the side, staring at it with interest.

 

            “I found this today,” Lena hesitantly said, her voice low and uncertain as she tilted the battered book towards Kara, extending it across the tabletop for her to see.

 

            Slowly reaching out, eyebrows slightly raised with mild surprise, Kara took the book from her, running her fingers over the pale yellow cover, the covers worn and the spine cracked. The yellowed pages fell open to a natural parting after much used, and Kara smoothed her fingers over the writing.

 

            “It’s a book about making cheese,” Lena explained, “you know, for when that goat shows up.”

 

            Loudly laughing, Kara closed the book and gave Lena an exasperated look. She clutched the book to her chest, and a smile softened her expression, eyes shining brightly.

 

            “It’s amazing! Thank you.”

 

            “Don’t mention it,” Lena said, one half of her mouth curling into a crooked smile.

 

            She watched as Kara opened the book again, eagerly flipping through the pages, stopping every so often to squint closer at the black text, her finger following along as she read. Chin propped in her hand, Lena watched her in silence, smiling faintly every so often as Kara would blurt out a piece of information that caught her attention. 

 

            They didn’t move until Kara suddenly looked up, slamming the book shut as her eyes widened slightly, and she slid off her stool. Moving towards the wine, she gave it a quick stir, before judging it ready. Lena moved closer, intrigue written on her face as she watched Kara pull out large coffee filters, and set it over one of the smaller fermentation vats. 

 

            “If you can just hold this-”

 

            Lena quickly moved to her side, taking the large circle of filter paper and holding it steady, while Kara started to pour jugs of the bubbling liquid over it. Wedges of lemons and cloves of garlic were strained out of the mixture, slowly but surely, and Lena breathed in the sweet smell as they worked.

 

            Once the pot was empty, Lena bundled up the soggy mess of citrus and spices, moving towards the wide bin to toss it out. She came back to watch Kara sprinkle yeast in, stirring it in while the mixture was still hot. Shaking out a large square of muslin cloth, Kara draped it over the top of the vat and gave Lena pleased smile.

 

            “Now it sits overnight, and tomorrow I’ll pour it into the cask and in a week I’ll be able to do the first racking.”

 

            Kara gestured towards the cask attached to the vat but a snaking pipe, waiting for the wine to be transferred into it, removing the first layer of sediment from it. It seemed like a long process, but after tasting Kara’s wine, and seeing how there was a market for fruit wines, Lena couldn’t help but appreciate the time and effort Kara put into it.

 

            Packing everything away, taking the scraps of their snacks and their empty glasses up to the kitchen, they walked upstairs together, Kara with her book tucked safely under one arm, and Lena walking slowly behind her, hand trailing against the cold stone wall.

 

            They both stood in the small space of the landing, lingering for a moment before Kara reached out and gave Lena’s arm a small squeeze. It was only that - a small squeeze - but it was becoming achingly familiar, and felt more intimate than it should’ve. Kara did it often, and each time it made Lena’s stomach clench as a yearning came over her. But she didn’t tell her to stop. She welcomed it, the way Kara’s fingers splayed on her arm, the slight pressure and warmth from her hand, and the way it seemed so effortless to just reach out and touch other people.

 

            “Thank you for the book,” Kara softly said after a moment, both of them standing in the dark, hesitant to go into their respective rooms.

 

            “Thank you for today. I had fun.”

 

            She could envision the quick smile that was undoubtedly curling Kara’s mouth, and Lena her pulse quicken for some unknown reason. And then Kara’s hand fell away, and Lena felt a pang of some unwanted feeling, although she didn’t quite know how to name it. All Lena knew was that it was the gentle breaking of a moment that she’d wanted to stay wrapped up in, and she smiled grimly, unseen by Kara, and bowed her head slightly.

 

            “Goodnight, Kara.”

 

            Turning the handle, she stepped back into her room as Kara quietly muttered her own goodnight, before slipping into her apartment too. Shutting the door behind herself, Lena stood in the dark, stark solitude slamming into her with enough force to make her slump back against the closed door, head tipping back against the wood as she exhaled forcefully. It was going to be another long night.


	16. Chapter 16

_ It was the best place to be, this warm delicious cellar, with the garrulous geese, the changing seasons, the heat of the sun, the passage of swallows, the nearness of rats, the sameness of sheep, the love of spiders, the smell of manure, and the glory of everything. _

 

_ \- E. B. White, Charlotte’s Web. _

 

-

 

            A couple of weeks passed by quickly. The weather grew warmer and was sprinkled with intermittent late spring showers, Lena managed to fix the electrical circuit inside the narrowboat, giving herself some light spilling out of the windows as she slowly made progress on the skeletal belly of the hull. She’d finished bending and drilling the planks into place on one side, and had gotten to work on the other, which was soon finished as well. The boat was by no means finished, or ready for the water, but Lena thought she’d be gone within the month. The thought almost made her sad.

 

            After so long lingering in one place, with nowhere to rush to and no way to escape, she’d become familiar with the place. The hills and valleys of the downs were familiar at dawn as rosy coloured fingers parted saffron curtains, revealing the blue sky of a warm, cloudless day. She knew the wine-dark shimmer of the river beneath a red sunset, and the warren of rabbit holes that grew amongst wild mushrooms. She’d grown accustomed to the sweet apple smell of the orchard behind the cottage as the trees bloomed with tiny apples, waiting to be harvested at the end of summer. 

 

            Lena worked with determined resignation, amongst the dwindling stacks of cedar wood and dirt, her fingers blistered and aching from hours clutching tools as she sanded and sawed and hammered. Her reservations were only normal, and she knew she had to leave. It didn’t make it any easier, her stomach twisting uncomfortably at the mere thought of it, but she brushed it off as nerves. 

 

            She felt so much these days, no longer tucking everything away inside her, but Lena still didn’t quite know how to manage what she felt. But it felt  _ good _ to feel things, to let some gentle emotions swell within her, quietly acknowledged as she came to terms with this reprieve from numbness. It was new, different, and Lena felt as if the ragged edges of her broken heart had come back together, not quite fitting together properly, but smoothed and less likely to prick her on a stray thought. Not that she didn’t miss Sam and dwell in the vastness of her sadness, but she was distracted enough that even those depressing moments of grief became less frequent.

 

            And everywhere, all the time, was Kara. For weeks now, they’d lived together, bumping into each other on the staircase, eating in the café, in Kara’s apartment, in Lena’s room, only a few days here and there to start with, until by some unspoken agreement, it was every night. Kara taught Lena how to cook a few dishes, the two of them standing side by side as they chopped vegetables, made pasta from scratch and stirred sauces, or bottled up the wine that Lena had helped make. In turn, Lena showed Kara the basics of carpentry, the blonde shifting from her perch on the stack of wood to crouching beside Lena, quietly coached through sanding the wood and sawing, Lena’s hand covering Kara’s as she guided her through the motions of cutting through the plank of sweet cedar. 

 

            They were nearly inseparable. Sometimes it felt like they were dancing around each other, coyly treading lightly, waiting for something, although Lena didn’t quite know what. But she enjoyed being with Kara, liked the lightness she brought to her, the sweet relief of pressure to put on a smile when she didn’t feel like it, or speak when she would rather sit in silence. As the days grew longer, more often than not, they would spend hours at night, sitting by the riverbank and reading, each of them absorbed in their respective books as they shared a bottle of wine and a slice of pie. There was never any pressure with Kara; it all just felt effortless.

 

            Swallows passed by overhead in abundance, and Lena didn’t feel a sharp ache every time she caught a glimpse of one. Slowly, her old wounds had healed, old hurts losing their sting and the broken pieces of her heart came back together. The cracks were still there, and the pining and grief, but it was less. But there were still parts of her that she locked up. Parts that would never see the sunlight, never be bared for everyone to see, and she knew she’d always carry that darkness within her. It was like a stain on her soul, a painful reminder of everything she’d loss and everything she’d suffered through. Time didn’t make old wounds disappear, it just faded them, replaced them with new wounds that took the mind off of them. 

 

            But Lena felt good. She felt rested and healthy, eating good food, drinking up the sun and, most of all, had good company. As she woke early on a Thursday morning to the sound of birds and a warm breeze sweeping in through the window, she dressed in her thinnest clothes and made her way out to the river, enjoying the last hint of a rosy dawn and sat on the wall of the bridge, one of Kara’s books in hand as her feet dangled over the slow-moving water.

 

            She read until her stomach rumbled, before slipping inside and making towards the kitchen, taking a piece of toast off the stack that Imra held out to her as she walked in. Butter pooled on it and she stayed to chat with the woman for a few minutes, finding her just as friendly and easy to talk to as Kara these days, before asking after the blonde and being pointed towards the garden.

 

            Lena made her way outside to find Kara standing at the far end with her bee hives. She wore a sleeveless blue sundress, a pair of thick gloves that went nearly to her elbows and a wide-brimmed white hat with a veil obscuring her face. Biting back a snort of laughter, Lena watched her wave around a metal can from where she stood, unwilling to get any closer to the swarm of bees hiding inside the wooden boxes. Kara still noticed her though and gave her a wave.

 

            “Morning!”

 

            “Um, hi,” Lena warily replied, hovering a safe distance away as she watched Kara slowly puff smoke into the top of a hive with the metal canister.

 

            She eased the top of the hive off a few moments later, satisfied that the bees were sluggish and hiding further inside the hive, and carefully set it down to lean against the side of the wooden stack of boxes. With a small metal tool, she gently pried a frame out, turning it in her gloved hands as bees crawled over it, a couple of them lazily flying around her. Setting it back into the box, Kara pulled out another frame at the other end, inspecting it closely as well, before she heaved the whole box off the top, tipping it sideways and settling it on the grass. 

 

            “You can come closer, you know. They won’t sting.”

 

            Pausing for a moment, Lena slowly inched closer, standing a few feet away as she watched Kara make her way through the levels of the hive, choosing frames that were ready as she smoked the bees to keep them calm. There were three hives, and Lena found herself curious, watching as Kara eyed the honeycomb pattern the bees crawled over, shaking them off the frames she decided were ready. 

 

            “Want to watch?” Kara asked as she pulled the veil of her wide-brimmed hat up, her eyes crinkling at the corners as squinted through the sunlight and smiled.

 

            “Sure.”

 

            Lena found herself readily agreeing, intrigued by the process of honeymaking, and helped carry in two boxes of frames while Kara carried another two behind her. It was only a small portion of the frames in the stacks of boxes that made up the hives, but Kara was confident that it would produce a good amount of honey.

 

            They carried them inside, with Kara setting the boxes down sideways on the floor and making space on the counter tucked beneath the window overlooking the river, moving a sack of potatoes out of the way. From inside a vast pantry, she unearthed a metal tub with a crank, and set it down on the edge of the counter, a deep plastic bucket sitting beneath a tap jutting out of the metal tub. 

 

            Following suit, Lena carefully set the boxes down on the floor and stood back, giving Gayle a nod as she watched her flip an egg in a pan, before turning back to watch Kara pull out another bucket and a long, serrated bread knife.

 

            “It’s most likely going to be dandelion and apple honey from this one,” Kara said as she pulled a frame out of one of the boxes, “the colour’s lighter here.”

 

            Lena nodded as if she understood how the colour of the honey signified what type it was, but she watched on with interest as Kara held the frame over the second bucket and cut off the waxy caps covering the honeycomb, scraping it off into the bucket with the practised ease of someone who had done it multiple times before. She did it to both sides and then set the frame into the metal bucket, before reaching for another one.

 

            Once she’d finished scraping a third one, she nestled that one into the metal contraption too, making sure the three frames were evenly balanced, and then beckoned Lena closer, peering down inside the tub.

 

            “So this is the extractor. You put the frames inside and then crank this handle and it spins them around. The honey gets stuck on the side and drips down to the bottom.” 

 

            As if just remembering, she quickly stepped away and rummaged through a drawer on the island counter, scrounging up a metal strainer and setting it over the bucket beneath the tap. Slowly, she started to turn the handle, the inside mechanism spinning and rapidly gaining speed as the frames went around and around.

 

            “You need to strain it when it comes out in case there’s wax or like … bee legs in it,” Kara said over the sound of the extractor, and Lena nodded, watching as a slow trickle of thick, golden honey dribbled out of the tap.

 

            They repeated it over and over again, taking turns winding the crank until the last lot of frames were winding down in the extractor and Lena’s arm was aching from the exertion of the task. It was rewarding though, looking at the gallons of honey sitting in the bucket, and she watched as Kara took the bucket of cappings and upended that over the top of the strainer too, adding to the load.

 

            “I like to keep the wax for soaps and candles, but there’s still a lot of honey in the sludge,” she explained, scooping out the dregs.

 

            “Do you normally get this much?”

 

            Shrugging, Kara set the empty bucket back down, sealed the honey bucket with an airtight lid and climbed to her feet. “Typically. It just depends on how many are ready to be harvested. This is a pretty early yield, but there’s a lot of flowers around here so I usually get a light load just before summer starts. Most people will only harvest once a year, but I like to get a late spring batch and then wait until autumn for the next. That one’s a darker kind of honey, um, sweeter, I guess. It tastes like fall.”

 

            Lena watched her ramble, a small smile curling her lips, as Kara dragged the heavy bucket across the stone floor, stowing it in the bottom of the pantry and quickly tidying up before she picked up two of the boxes with the empty frames in them.

 

            Carrying the other two, Lena followed Kara back through the building and outside, over to the picnic table, where Kara set the boxes down on top of the worn wood. “And that’s it! The bees will come and sort this out for me. Clean up it a bit before I put it back in.”

 

            “Huh,” Lena murmured, her mouth turning down at the corners as she nodded, filing the new information away.

 

            Trailing after Kara, she watched her stow her thick gloves and meshed hat in the little shed, along with the metal device she’d used to pry the frames out. The bees were bumbling around again by then, and Lena watched as more than one drifted towards the boxes set out on the table.

 

            Next, Kara scooped a tin cup of grains out of a plastic bin and walked towards the chicken coop, clicking her tongue as she scattered feed all over the ground, chickens squawking and squabbling as they pecked the earth. Lena had come to learn their names and identify them by their markings, and she watched as Kara fussed and cooed over them, before returning the cup to the shed and rounding on Lena.

 

            “So, I was actually going to come and find you after I’d finished with the honey. I wanted to see if you were free.”

 

            Lena let out a quiet laugh, raising an eyebrow slightly. “Because there’s just  _ so _ much to do here.”

 

            Cracking a smile, Kara gave her a patient look, “I was wondering if you’d like to go out on the river with me. I know this great spot we can take one of the boats to. It’s not too far.”

 

            Pausing, Lena blinked in surprise. She’d actually missed being on the water, with the gentle rocking motion of the water beneath her, feeling as if she was being cradled by it. It would actually be nice to get back on it, letting the gentle current drag them along with it, instead of her usual brooding over the water from the bridge.

 

            “That sounds great. What time did you want to go?”

 

            “Right now?”

 

            Lena smiled and ducked her head in agreement, and Kara brightened, quickly excusing herself before ducking back into the cottage. She reemerged a few minutes later with a wicker picnic basket, a rolled-up blanket wedged under her arm and a bottle of wine in hand. Pressing her lips together to hide a smile, Lena wondered how long she’d been thinking of asking her on a picnic, and was touched by the gesture.

 

            Together, they made their way past the boathouse, where rowing boats and kayaks had started to find themselves free of their shelves as Kara started renting them out for the warm weather. Every day now there were people on the river, and Lena had silently envied them as Kara came to the boathouse to heave one along the muddy track to the river for a customer. Perhaps Kara had noticed the forlorn look on Lena’s face, the yearning in her eyes as she was stuck fixing her own boat, and had come up with a reason to take her out in one.

 

            The sun was already inching towards its peak, the sky pale with a few clouds that hinted at the possibility of rain, and Kara gently swung the picnic basket in hand as she followed the furrowed path to the shimmering river visible between the trees, as Lena followed behind at a slower pace. As they reached the river, Lena saw a little rowing boat pulled up onto the bank with oars resting in their locks. Kara had been confident in her saying yes.

 

            Nestling everything down on the floor of the boat, Kara pushed it out into the shallows, holding onto a damp rope as she smiled at Lena. “You hop in first.”

 

            Gingerly clambering in as the boat rocked side to side with her shifting body weight, Lena found that it wasn’t much like being on her narrowboat. She clutched either side as Kara pushed the boat further out and then deftly leapt into the boat as well, making it bob and spin slightly with the current, before she quickly sat down to steady them. She picked up the oars without question and steered them with a few slow strokes, turning them this way and that until they were in the middle of the narrow river, facing downstream. 

 

            Peering out across the water, Lena basked in the soft, gauzy feeling of sunshine caressing her face, her hands still gripping the peeling sides of the old boat, and she found herself smiling. She could see silver fish darting past in the murky water and leant over slightly to watch them move through the weeds and algae beneath the surface, gone in a flash.

 

            Dipping her fingers in the water, she found it cold, despite the sunny day, and a wry smile curled her lips as she thought about how she knew how cold it could get. A little too well for her liking, actually. Mulling over everything that had happened over the past few weeks and months, Lena was surprised at how much had happened, how much she’d changed. And it was with a light heart and a swelling feeling of pride in her chest that she realised it was for the better. Things didn’t seem quite so heavy anymore.

 

            It was a perfect day. Warm and sunny, nature in full bloom around her and Kara, shining golden as she rowed the boat, and it was as perfect a day as any that Lena had spent at the cottage. Banishing all thoughts that threatened to cloud her mood, Lena turned to Kara and smiled, shading her eyes from the bright sunlight as she watched the muscles of Kara’s bare arms shift with the strain of rowing.

 

            “So, what’s so special about this spot you’re taking us to?”

 

            “Well, for starters, it’s a tiny little branch off the river that leads to … well, it’s not a lake, but the river kind of just pools there. And you’ll see why it’s so special when we get there.”

 

            “How long until we get there?”

 

            Kara chuckled quietly, shaking her head as she smiled widely, “you know, you’re not a very patient person.”

 

            Letting out a small cry of outrage, Lena gave her an indignant look, leaning back on her bench as she fixed Kara with a piercing stare. “I’ll have you know I’ve become a  _ very _ patient person since I’ve been stuck here. Well … in comparison to how I was before.”

 

            “Is the antique field  _ that _ fast-paced?”

 

            “Of course! I would have to go to London, Bombay  _ and _ Tokyo all in the same day to close deals. Sellers aren’t very patient, and if it was a valuable item … well, you either get there quickly to snatch it up at the auction, or you wait a few decades for the person to die and it to crop back up again, which is just a pain.”

 

            Giving her a mild look of concern, Kara couldn’t help but let out a snort of laughter. “How inconsiderate of them to take so long to  _ die.” _

 

            Shrugging, Lena gave her a wry smile, “it didn’t happen too often; I’m a very impatient person. Haven’t you noticed?”

 

            “Oh, well I would personally say you’ve become more patient since being here. You know, being so laid back and all.”

 

            A quick laugh fell from Lena’s lips and she rolled her eyes, before sitting up and reaching forward. “Here, let me row.”

 

            She took over and let Kara recline, her blue dress spread across her lap, shoulders bare to the sun and a hand shading her deep blue eyes. Her hair was like spun gold in the sunshine, and Lena cast furtive glances at her as she rowed, pretending that she was staring at the river behind Kara, making sure they stayed the course. The truth was that she thought she was beautiful. Kara’s kindness radiated out of her, and the way her nose crinkled at the bridge when she smiled was endearing, and the smattering of freckles across her nose gave her an innocent look that made her seem young and full of childlike wonder. 

 

            Yet Lena thought about those facts objectively. Not once did it occur to her that perhaps Kara was exactly what she’d needed to jerk her out of the numbness, that she’d been the catalyst in Lena pulling herself out of her spiralling darkness, finding that there was more to life than isolating oneself and biting the head off of anyone who offered a helping hand. It wasn’t that Kara had fixed her - no one could fix heartbreak and misery - but had been a welcome distraction that had slowly turned into a willing friendship. And it would’ve been so easy to have tipped over the precipice they danced on, if only Lena had thought to peek over the other side to see what was there.

 

            Instead, she happily rowed them down the river, basking in the quiet company as ducks swam past and a grey heron stood in the shallows of a marshy stretch of river. The treeline fell away to fields and a hazy view of the rolling downs, before the river snaked through a small wooded area, small branches and streams forking off the main course of the river.

 

            Kara took the oars back as they started to near the thickly shaded part of the thicket, dark shadows splayed over the river, turning it inky as the sunlight filtered down green. A swan glided elegantly out of the mouth of a branching channel of water, and Kara steered them towards it. They were quiet, and it felt like the world was holding its breath as they were seemingly transported elsewhere within a matter of moments.

 

            The channel was just wide enough to allow them to fit through, branches hanging low and creating a tangled archway of boughs overhead, dripping with moss and lichen as pollen danced in shafts of sunlight. The air was rich with the earthy smell of rotting foliage and heavy with moisture, almost humid, even, and Lena didn’t even dare to breathe as Kara pulled the oars inside the boat, letting them float along through the narrow waterway. The only sound was that of some nearby ducks, although Lena couldn’t see them.

 

            And then they came out into an egg-shaped pond, just over a dozen feet wide at its widest, and Lena looked around with unabashed wonder, taking in the crowded mass of ducks, geese and swans gliding and splashing on the water, jostling each other as they moved past lilypads with blooming white and pink flowers. The trees all banded together, creating a shaded dome above them, with only fingers of sunlight peeking through, and it was magical in the gloom. Lena couldn’t help the quiet gasp as she breathed in sharply.

 

            “It’s  _ beautiful.” _

 

            “I think so too,” Kara murmured, a smile in her voice.

 

            Craning her neck as she looked around in amazement, taking in the rocks covered in moss, the violet pickerels that grew straight up through the shallows of the pond, the tall pink lupins and crimson cardinals blooming on the banks, breathing in the heady smell of the flowers and the distinct odour of stones warmed by the sun. 

 

            Looking at Kara, she couldn’t help but smile. The birds were content to let them intrude, parting around the floating boat as they spiralled with the eddying water and the drifting lily pads. Kara was too busy draping the red plaid blanket over the bench in the middle of the boat to pay the birds or the little paradise around them, and she set the picnic basket onto it and opened it up, pulling out two sparkling wine glasses and popping the cork off the bottle she’d brought.

 

            It was elderflower wine, and the taste was crisp and floral with a hint of lemon. Lena hadn’t tried that one yet, and it was perfectly fitting for the setting, the wine shining a deep golden colour in the gloomy Eden they’d wandered into. Holding the stem delicately between her fingers, Lena watched as Kara unpacked a variety of foods, so much of it that she wondered how long she’d been planning it for. It certainly wasn’t a spur of the moment thing. It almost seemed …  _ romantic. _ If Lena didn’t know any better, she would’ve thought it was a date. It was a fitting place for a date, certainly.

 

            “So, do you bring all of your house guests here?”

 

            “Not a single one,” Kara quickly shot back, pulling the last container out of the picnic basket, before stowing it beneath the bench again. “I told Imra about the place, so she could bring Gayle here, but you’d be the first person I’ve ever been here with, actually.”

 

            “I’m touched,” Lena murmured, raising the wine to her lips as she mumbled around the rim of the glass, the faint tang of lemons bursting on her tongue.

 

            She wasn’t even being sarcastic either; it was genuinely touching that Kara had thought to bring her to such a beautiful place. It seemed another world away from the countryside they’d passed by, so secluded and closed in. It was the swans that created the whole effect, Lena decided, their slender, curving necks, the way they gracefully drifted past, careless of the humans trespassing in their oasis. The whole effect was just stunning. Lena imagined she could stay all day, without even knowing that time was passing her by.

 

            “Have you ever tried heirloom tomatoes?” Kara asked, wiping her hands on a cloth napkin and reaching for the paper bag with a sliced baguette inside.

 

            “No.”

 

            “This seems really basic, but the flavours complement each other really well,” Kara said as her hands moved back and forth.

 

            Pulling out a piece, she drizzled it with olive oil, put a slice of tomato on top, sprinkled some salt and added a squeeze of lemon, before handing it over to Lena. Taking a small bite, Lena nodded appreciatively, The sliver of tomato on her piece of bread was almost maroon, and it had a smoky sweetness to it, perfectly cut through with the salt and lemon. 

 

            “This is really good.”

 

            “You sound surprised.”

 

            “Well, it’s just bread and tomato.”

 

            Kara gave her a small smile, a knowing look on her face as her eyes sparkled in the green light. “That’s the key to good food; flavour, not complexity.”

 

            “Fair point.”

 

            Taking a sip of wine, Lena could understand why she’d brought the elderflower even more now. It was light and crisp and didn’t overpower the flavour of the food like a strong, fruity wine would’ve. She eyed Kara with a newfound appreciation for her knack to always pair food and wine together perfectly, which she assumed came from knowledge and practice, and perhaps some trial and error.

 

            She had other food prepared too; sun-dried tomatoes and pancetta, crumbly feta, pitted olives, a sweet caramelised onion relish and a selection of fresh fruit. They lounged at opposite ends of the boat, sharing the bottle of wine and drinking cloudy lemonade in between, while they talked and ate and laughed, ducks and swans milling around them. 

 

            It was peaceful, and Lena could literally feel the tension bleeding out of her, but she kept circling back to Kara saying she’d never taken anyone to this spot before. Lena realised she didn’t  _ have _ anyone to take. Sure, Kara had her friends, and they went to karaoke night and saw each other nearly every day, but when the café was shut and she was home, she was all alone. In a way, Lena’s company had been good for her too. 

 

            “Hey, Kara,” Lena hesitantly said.

 

            “Yes, Éire,” Kara said as she idly ran a thumb over the furry skin of a peach, before glancing up expectantly, her doleful blue eyes softened with kindness.

 

            Finding herself struggling to find the words to voice her question, Lena fumbled for a moment, taking a quick sip of wine and glancing at Kara again, who was taking a slow bite of her peach as she waited. She seemingly had all the time in the world and no desire to rush Lena, and with a sigh, Lena slumped, giving her a grim smile.

 

            “Don’t you ever get lonely out here?”

 

            Cocking her head to the side as she considered the question, Kara’s cheek dimpled slightly, and there was a thoughtful look in her eyes. “Sometimes. Not in the way you might think.”

 

            “How so?”

 

            “I’m a very … affectionate person. For me, I miss that the most. I miss the touches, the hugs, even just holding someone’s hand. I see enough people every day to not be lonely in  _ that _ way … but I suppose sometimes I do feel it. Why?”

 

            Lena’s shoulders rose and fell as she looked out at the surrounding woods, taking in the elms and oaks and spruces, a brooding expression clouding her features for a brief moment, before she smiled ever so slightly at Kara.

 

            “I was just thinking that this could be a very isolating life to live.”

 

            Quietly laughing, Kara shrugged, “it’s not for everyone.”

 

            “I imagine I’d quite like it.”

 

            With a small smile, somewhat tinged with melancholy, Kara straightened up on her bench. “Maybe you’ll pass back through here again sometime. Try out that wine you helped make.”

 

            Lena laughed quietly, staring down at the half-empty glass she cradled in her lap, a sudden sadness washing over her as her chest ached. She would miss it there. “Maybe.”

 

            “Maybe,” Kara muttered, her voice soft as she picked up her glass of wine and drained what was remaining. There was almost a bitterness to her words that Lena couldn’t quite place.


	17. Chapter 17

_             Dearest Sam, _

 

_             The strangest thing happened the other day; I went nearly the whole day without thinking about you, and I didn’t even realise it. Somehow, I’ve become better without even realising it, slowly evolving into a different person who feels things instead of existing in perpetual numbness, even if the things I feel are painful. I’ve slowed down since being here, taking the time to just be, picking wildflowers along the riverbank and appreciating the hard work of a quiet life. I think you’d like who I’ve become. _

 

_             I no longer feel like the same person I was when I started my trip. Almost by accident, I’ve become myself again - well, perhaps a better version. I hope you’re proud of me for that. Proud that I no longer cling to the image of you that I have created and idolised since the moment we first met. My love for you is healthier now; it no longer depends on you fixing me. I’ve learnt that only I could do that, and I’m by no means fixed, and I still miss you with every bit of me, but I’m working on it and I’m okay. I’m more than okay - I’m good. _

 

_             For so long, I’ve been wrapped up in the darkness inside me, sharpening my edges against anyone who tried to get close enough to help me. But I have been softened by too much time spent in the countryside, and for so long it’s felt like I’ve been weighed down by the life I wasn’t living, only for me to find my freedom at last. I feel light now. I feel like I’m choosing what I want for myself, and not for anybody else.  _

 

_             I thought you leaving was the worst thing that could happen to me, the only thing I had left to lose, and I didn’t think I could survive it, but somehow, it has made me a better version of myself. I’ve spent all of the spring waiting to be my old self again, but instead, I found someone new. At first, it felt like I wasn’t here, like my body was controlled by someone else, someone who went through the motions and took care of me while I dozed inside myself, but I’ve since come back to life, back to myself, and found that I’m made of something else now. I’ve come to appreciate nights spent watching the stars, the peacefulness of crickets singing after dark and days spent reading for hours on end, drinking homemade lemonade on a blanket by the river.  _

 

_             I have changed so much, Sam, I can feel it in my bones. I feel strong, happy, put back together again in the right way this time, as if I was born with the pieces in the wrong places, and it just feels so right. I can’t wait to tell you all about it. I can’t wait to tell you about Kara and how I’m fixing my boat myself. It’s going to be so good to see you again; I’ve missed you more than you could possibly know. That much hasn’t changed, and neither has my love for you. _

 

_             Yours always, _

_             Lena x _

 

_ - _

 

            Time was moving quicker than Lena wanted it to, the days slipping between her fingers with no control, watching as the moments blurred together, heedless of her desire for them to slow down. Soon enough, she’d finished covering the hull with airtight slats of thick wood, and the boat had been towed back out of the boathouse and down to the river, where it floated, moored in the shallows as Lena tested it for leaks. 

 

            It only had a quick layer of resin and tar on it at the moment, and she still had more work to do, but she needed to know whether it was sturdy. It had been out there for a couple of days, bilge pump in working fashion as the planks of unfinished wood bobbed in the water, looking strange with its mismatched colours.

 

            Summer came in the blink of an eye, with azure skies and days that seemed endless. Her and Kara spent cloudless nights outside, sitting at the old picnic table beneath the violet sky speckled with the first stars, bathed in flickering candlelight and silver moonlight as they enjoyed eating in the lingering warmth. The teahouse was busier than ever, and the nights seemed to be the only quiet moments that Kara had these days.

 

            Tourists passed through in a constant stream, heading to Dover to see the white cliffs or take a ferry across the channel to Calais. Lena spent most of her time by herself, first finishing the layer of resin, seeing Kara for brief moments when she came to drag boats and kayaks out onto the river for the tourists and locals to use, and then on her boat, taking stock of everything and readying it for her leaving. 

 

            It was a Tuesday, a relatively quiet day of the week for the café, and Lena was folding a stack of freshly laundered clothes, separating them into piles of her things and Kara’s, having gotten into the routine of doing all of the laundry together. The faint smell of lavender clung to the clothes, soothing and familiar, and as she folded a t-shirt, there was a knock on the door. Her head jerked up as she called Kara in, knowing it was most likely her.

 

            “What’re you up to?” Kara asked, a wary look on her face as she fought to hide brimming excitement. 

 

            “Just finishing up the laundry.”

 

            Lena picked up Kara’s stack of clothes and walked over to her, extending the pile and giving her a small smile. Cradling the stack in her arms, Kara gave her a bright smile.

 

            “Thanks! So what’re you doing now?”

 

            Letting out a quiet laugh, Lena shook her head as she smiled, “I don’t know, what are  _ we _ doing?”

 

            “I thought we might go to the pier in Folkestone. Imra said she’d lend me her car.”

 

            “Let’s go then.”

 

            They lingered just long enough for Kara to nearly put her clothes away in the old armoire and drawers, and Kara grabbed a few things in a bag before they made their way downstairs. It was early afternoon and the café was nearly full, everyone enjoying breakfast or coffee or milling about the shelves as they eyed the wares.

 

            In the kitchen, Kara was given a stern lecture by Imra, before the keys to her car were handed over, and Kara gave her a hug from behind as the brunette rolled her eyes and whisked pancake batter in a big mixing bowl. Feeling her heart ache slightly at the easy display of friendship, Lena gave Kara a small smile as they made their way outside, walking down the garden path towards the parking lot.

 

            Kara was wearing a yellow dress, thin straps baring her shoulders and her blonde hair messily pinned up. Her eyes were hidden by a pair of sunglasses, but Lena knew they’d be as blue as the sky and creasing gently at the corners. In comparison, she felt scruffy in her worn boots and a cheap t-shirt from one of the gift shops she’d stopped at on her way south, and a rueful smile twisted Lena’s lips at the thought. She’d left behind a wardrobe of designer dresses and custom-tailored suits, things that hadn’t mattered at the time, but now she wished she had something a little nicer to wear.

 

            Still, she followed Kara to the powder blue beetle parked in the lot, opening the creaking door and settling down on the beige leather seat. As soon as Kara turned the key in the engine,  _ Bon Jovi _ blasted from the speakers, and Kara scrambled to turn it down as she cursed, giving Lena a sheepish smile. 

 

            Slowly backing them out of the spot, Kara reversed, her arm around the back of Lena’s seat, before she gingerly put the car into gear and drove towards the winding path through the trees. It was only wide enough for one car, and Lena could feel the tension radiating off Kara as she drove slowly, every bump and rut rattling their teeth until they came out onto the proper road. 

 

            Picking up speed, the engine clattering loudly, Kara set off through the countryside, fiddling with the radio until an old song started crackling through the speakers. The windows were wound down and Lena rested her arm on the open window, chin on top as the wind ruffled her hair and she watched the stretch of green pass by in a blur. Kara quietly sang, the car dipping with every pothole, and soon enough they were approaching the small, seaside town.

 

            Finding a place to park, Kara killed the engine and climbed out as Lena did on the other side. The sea was a churning mass of deep blue-capped with white, the bracing air was cool and salty, and the cry of distant seagulls could be heard from where they stood. They lingered by the car for a moment as Kara fished a bottle of sunscreen out of her bag and rubbed it into her shoulders and arms, before handing it off to Lena, who rolled her eyes and silently obeyed.

 

            “God, I love the sea,” Kara quietly exclaimed as they set off in the direction of the expanse of shimmering blue, stretching her arms out wide and tipping her head back slightly as she drank if the briny scent of it. “I wish I had more time to come here.”

 

            “Mm,” Lena hummed in agreement, “maybe it’s time for a vacation.”

 

            “I wish, but I’m supposed to be going to visit my family towards the end of the year. I can’t really leave the café for too long. Not that I don’t trust Imra and Gayle, but it’s a lot to ask them to run the place on their own. And then there’s the bookkeeping and ordering and all sorts.”

 

            Lena gave her a small smile as they walked along the promenade, a narrow stretch of golden sand bordering the sea below them. “Well, maybe you can stop by and visit when you’re over there.”

 

            “Yeah, maybe,” Kara said with a slight smile, “you can introduce me to this woman of yours if it all goes well in Paris.”

 

            A lump lodged itself in Lena’s throat at the mention of Sam, and she drew in a shaky breath as she forced a smile to her lips. “Maybe.”

 

            They stopped at an ice cream shop along the promenade, with Lena treating them both to double scoops. She got strawberry and Kara got raspberry and peanut butter, both of them clutching their cones as the ice cream melted in the heat of the day, and they walked towards the pier jutting out over the water.

 

            It jutted out to the left at the end, and Lena could see a small lighthouse on the end of it. It all seemed so blue as well, in stark contrast to the green of the countryside she’d become used to. It was all yellow stone buildings, selling burgers of beer, door frames painted powder blue while a rusted blue railing lined the walkway, and the sky and the sea were vibrant. It was peaceful in a different way to the countryside, but no less so, and the sound of waves crashing on the shore was soothing as they walked.

 

            “So, how’s the boat coming along?”

 

            Hesitating, Lena licked her ice cream and avoided the question for a few moments. “It’s good. Still got a while left to go, I think. A couple of months at least.”

 

            It was a lie, and she didn’t know why she said it, but it rolled off the tongue so easily. The boat would be ready in a few weeks. Yet she watched the slight change to Kara’s face, taking in the way her expression lifted, her posture straightening and the wide smile that flashed across her face.

 

            “That’s great! That it’s going so well, I mean.”

 

            “Yeah,” Lena softly murmured.

 

            Kara peppered her with questions about the repair, and Lena fumbled her way through them, trying to explain what was left without giving away the fact that, really, she just had to cover the hull and find someone to come and black the hull and weld some anodes to the steel. It  _ would _ take a few weeks, but not quite the months that Lena was lying about. 

 

            Although she hadn’t admitted it to herself, and thus, probably didn’t even realise it, it could’ve been ready weeks ago. If Lena had worked as hard as she could, as long as she could, like she’d used to with her clocks and antiques, the boat probably would’ve been done by now. Instead, she’d distracted herself with days spent with Kara, endless walks and fixing the stack of furniture upstairs. 

 

            She’d done it under the guise of taking a break, but the truth was that she didn’t  _ want _ to finish the boat. Of course, she’d have to - she couldn’t intrude on Kara’s life forever - but she found that she wasn’t in a rush. Why  _ shouldn’t _ she take a break from fixing her boat to sand the scratches out of an end table and enjoy the look on Kara’s face when she presented it to her? Lena had come to like that look, the way her face lit up as she took in the gleaming layer of a fresh varnish, the fixed wonky legs and the buffed out nicks. It made her glow inside for a moment.

 

            The promenade was full of people milling about, mothers with their children, friends crowded around tables drinking pints as the midday sun shone overhead, and people walking dogs and pushing strollers, enjoying the fresh air. They were just another two people enjoying the summer’s day and their ice cream, and not one of them could have known about the knotted confusion inside Lena, the way she yearned for something she couldn’t explain, the way her heart ached, yet soared with happiness. 

 

            Eventually, they stopped at a bench, leaning back as they stared out at the water. It was beautiful, the strip of beach clean, the water crystalline blue and a few brave seagulls squawking nearby for food scraps. They finished their cones and sat for a while, enjoying the view, and Lena had to appreciate the change. She’d been staring at trees and empty fields for too long, and while she loved it, the change of scenery was a welcome break.

 

            As the afternoon wore on, they wandered along the shops on the pier, and then along the promenade, ducking into a bookshop jammed back with old penguin classics, a store that sold crystals and candles and herbs, where Kara chatted to the woman about plants and bought a few packets of seeds for her garden. There was a novelty store of souvenirs, keyrings with red buses and telephone boxes, postcards of Buckingham Palace, and a stack of t-shirts with a print of the pier and the town’s name on it. Kara convinced her to buy one for her collection, and Lena dutifully obliged, picking one in black. 

 

            They watched the boats bob in the water, the masts of yachts mingling with small tin boats and the bigger fishing trawlers that came and went. Making their way down to the docks, they walked amongst them, the smell of fish strong in the air as they watched fishermen unload their catch before they wound up sitting on the edge of the warped wooden jetty, feet dangling over the water as they sat in the shade of the promenade wall.

 

            It was quiet down there, with just the lapping of water against the wooden supports, a seagull silently bobbing nearby, its eyes beady as it watched them. Lena was grateful for the coolness of the shade, and leant back on her elbows, watching people walk past above them while the fishermen talked and boat engines rumbled to life with a spluttering of water. It was a different world of boats, and Lena watched them come and go.

 

            Silent, for the most part, they dwelled on the docks until the sky started to turn lighter, a cloud bank sweeping in with the tide. The sun was soon obscured and the day cooled a little, but it was still relatively early on in the afternoon, just a little after three o’clock. They still had plenty of daylight left.

 

            “Are you hungry?” Kara blurted out suddenly, her head jerking to face Lena as she gave her an expectant look.

 

            Shrugging, Lena raised her eyebrows slightly. “I could eat.”

 

            Climbing to her feet, Kara reached down and pulled Lena to her feet, her hand warm as she gently squeezed her fingers, before letting go. Lena gently flexed her hand at her side. 

 

            “It’s nothing fancy, but I know they have a fish shop here.”

 

            “Sounds great.”

 

            They bought battered cod and chips to share, the man behind the counter dousing it in salt and vinegar before wrapping it up in a few pages of an old newspaper. Kara carried the bundle in her arms and led them down to a bench overlooking the beach. Leaving a gap between them, Kara unwrapped the food and they picked at it as the sea breeze ruffled their hair and they made idle chit chat. Seagulls clustered around their feet and Kara had to shoo away a few that flapped overhead, laughing as she waved them away and one of them stole a chip right out of her hand. 

 

            It was like she found joy in everything. Lena couldn’t imagine her ever being sad, and she was glad for that. She loved to see Kara’s smiles, so unreserved and open, the start of one always playing on her lips, never far from the surface. As she ate a chip, Lena watched her, taking in the way she leant back, head tilted towards the faint warmth of the sun breaking through the clouds, golden and beautiful, and so careless that Lena felt a pull inside her. 

 

            For some inexplicable reason, she was drawn to her. For months now, Lena had been slowly reeled in by whatever hooks Kara had managed to catch her on, showering her with unconditional kindness and giving her just a glimpse of the life that Lena hadn’t even known she’d wanted. She made her  _ happy. _

 

            After they’d finished eating, they strolled around the small town some more until the shops started closing up for the day and the sky was white with clouds, leaching the buttery warmth of sunlight out of everything and washing it grey. The air was heavy with the anticipation of rain, humid even as the day cooled. 

 

            They decided to leave then, making their way back to Imra’s car and setting off back through the countryside. Passing by a field of cows laying down, Kara clicked her tongue and gave Lena a grim look, her sunglasses pushed up on top of her head.

 

            “Cow’s are laying down. It’s going to rain.”

 

            “Well, I could’ve told you that by looking at the sky,” Lena snorted.

 

            Sighing, Kara gave her an exasperated look, “well … yes,  _ but _ I prefer to listen to the cows. I think they’re excellent judges.”

 

            “Uh-huh.”

 

            Static blared out of the speakers and Kara reached for the controls, trying to find a station as the car clunked along, sputtering from age, and as she let out a small cry of triumph as the first few notes of a song filled the car.

 

            “Oh, I love this song!” she exclaimed, a smile lighting up her face as a song Lena had never heard played.

 

            “I’ve never heard of it before.”

 

            “No? What kind of music do you like then?”

 

            Lena shrugged. It wasn’t that she didn’t  _ like _ music, but it had been a long while since she’d listened to anything other than her one Fleetwood Mac vinyl or whatever Kara played on the radio while they ate dinner together. She decided the former was a good enough answer.

 

            “Fleetwood Mac.”

 

            “Yeah? I wouldn’t have picked that.”

 

            “I like Rumours. I have the vinyl on my boat.”

 

            Kara nodded, a thoughtful look on her face. “I’ll have to listen to it.”

 

            “I’ll play it for you.”

 

            She smiled and inclined her head in agreement, hands tightly gripping the steering wheel, before her expression darkened as she took in the grey clouds that were blotting out the sun. It really did look like it was about to pour down.

 

            They turned down Imra and Gayle’s street, Kara assuring Lena that they would’ve locked up and walked home a long time ago, and pulled up outside their house. Kara killed the engine and they both climbed out. Locking the door, Kara made her way up to the door, standing on the stoop as she knocked and waited for the door to open. Imra answered, taking the keys and quietly chatting to the blonde for a moment, before raising her hand in a small wave to Lena, who nodded back from where she hovered on the sidewalk.

 

            Imra offered to drive them back, but after a glance at Lena, whose shoulders rose and fell ever so slightly, Kara waved away the offer, giving her friend a quick peck on the cheek, and calling inside to Gayle, before saying goodbye. Lena raised a hand in a wave and then buried her hands in her pockets as Kara joined her on the sidewalk and the door to the house shut.

 

            It started raining by the time they reached the end of the street. Just a slight drizzle at first, fat drops intermittently staining the pavement, before the rain started picking up speed, splashing against their skin and soaking into their clothes. Lena swore and Kara laughed, using her bag to cover her head as they quickened their pace, reaching the narrow path that wound through the thicket of trees leading to the river.

 

            They splashed through shallow puddles and squelched through mud, both of them laughing as warm rain drenched them. It was hard not to find the lighter side to getting caught in a rainstorm, where Lena would’ve only ever seen it as a bad thing before, and as they dashed down the path, rain pelting them and plastering their hair and clothes to their skin, she found that it was Kara. Listening to her laugh, the way she tipped her head back, arms wide as if welcoming the rain, Lena couldn’t help but smile, her eyes softening. 

 

            Around them, the countryside seemed to come alive, petrichor and a rich earthy smell strongly perfuming the air as the plants and flowers drank in the rain. And with it, Lena felt a piece of herself come alive too, cheeks pink and eyes bright, breathless laughter falling from her lips as she slipped in a patch of mud, reaching out instinctively to catch herself on Kara’s arm, as Kara simultaneously reached out to steady her.

 

            Their hands became entwined, fingers slick with water laced together and warm as they pulled each other along, the overhead canopy dripping with droplets of water and adding to the song of the woods. It was a soothing lullaby and Lena let it envelope her as the sight of the river snaking its way past the ivy-covered cottage snaked past, its surface dimpling as it ambled by, grey and churning. 

 

            She made for the back door of the cottage before Kara jerked her hand. Looking at her, Lena squinted through the rain, a question in her eyes as she wiped sodden hair out of her face.

 

            “I still want to listen to that album,” Kara said.

 

            Lena laughed and shrugged, letting herself be towed past the dark cottage and around to the other side, trampling the lawn down to the riverbank where the stern of her boat was just visible at its mooring. It gently rocked with the flow of the river, straining against the ropes tying it to the trees.

 

            One of the things Lena liked about Kara was her impulsivity. If she wanted to do something, she did it there and then. There was no waiting, no indecisiveness, or hesitation. If she invited Lena along to do something, it was then, as soon as possible, and Lena found herself compelled to go along with her, as if tethered to her somehow. Recently, wherever she was, Kara wasn’t far. It was nice to have someone who wanted to spend time with her, breaking her out of her isolation, someone who wanted her to try new things and eagerly pulled her into her plans.

 

            So Lena willingly let herself get dragged to the riverbank, hopping onto the stern of the boat and pulling Kara on with her as rain fell from the deep grey sky above. The door was unlocked and Lena stepped into the gloom, Kara close behind, and moved by familiarity with the small space, slipping down the centre aisle and reaching into the cupboard where the record player was.

 

            She had left the keys in and the power was on, so as she lowered the needle down onto the vinyl, starting at the very beginning so it would play the whole side through. It was on the second side of the record, and the start of  _ The Chain _ started playing, filling the close space with music.

 

            Wiping a hand over her face, Lena exhaled heavily, dripping water on the floor as rain angrily pounded on the roof. It was muffled, and in the gloom, with the music playing, it felt oddly intimate. Hesitating for a moment as she took in the vague shadowy figure of Kara lurking nearby, Lena moved towards the kitchenette.

 

            “Drink?” she asked, pulling out her chipped mug and glass. “I only have scotch left.”

 

            “Sure.”

 

            She poured them both generous amounts and held a cup out towards Kara, before reaching for the light switch and bathing them both in an amber glow. The place was neater than the last time Kara had been on it, the broken pieces of clocks stowed away and the floor free from the soggy books that had dried with warped pages and streaks of ink leaving the words unintelligible. 

 

            “I’ll see if I have any towels left on here,” Lena said, excusing herself as she moved with the gentle swaying of the boat, Lindsey Buckingham’s voice following after her.

 

            In the darkness of the bedroom, she fished out a towel and two crumpled t-shirts she’d left behind, not bothering to take them with her as she’d packed everything up. One of them had a hole in the neck, and the other was stained with varnish. Quickly stripping off her t-shirt, Lena patted herself dry and slipped on the stained one, the lingering odour of varnish comforting to her as she carried the other one with her and ruffled her hair with the towel.

 

            Feeling somewhat dryer, even if her jeans were heavy and soaked, Lena made her way back out of the room, holding the towel out to Kara, as well as the t-shirt. 

 

            “Here’s something dry to put- oh, you don’t have pants.”

 

            “I don’t mind if you don’t,” Kara said, giving her a smile as water ran down her face. 

 

            Shrugging, Lena moved to take her own cup and slipped into the booth. Taking a sip, feeling it set her throat on fire and warm her stomach a moment later, she watched Kara disappear further down the boat, returning a few moments later in Lena’s shirt, which was admittedly a little big on Lena, but shorter on Kara. She was glad for the dim lighting as she quickly looked away, taking another sip of scotch as Kara slipped onto the bench across from her.

 

            She clutched her own cup, and Lena had set the bottle on the table between them to share as  _ The Chain _ came to a close and the next song started playing. Damp and suddenly exhausted, Lena leant back in her seat and watched as Kara absentmindedly circled the rim of her cup with a finger, head tipped back against the leather seat as she closed her eyes and let the music wash over her.

 

            They drank and listened in silence for the next three songs, before Kara leant forward on the table, rolling her cup between her palms as she smiled sweetly. “Well I know why they were so popular now.”

 

            Lena hummed in agreement, topping off their drinks and taking another sip of her own, enjoying the pleasant blurring at the edges of her mind. Nowhere near enough to make her drunk and drown out the thoughts that loudly made themselves known inside her head, melding together into a loud, indistinguishable cacophony, but enough that her inhibition was lowered ever so slightly. 

 

            Her walls were lowered, the easy comfort of Kara’s company softening her as they dwelled in the gloom of an early twilight, the sound of rain a soothing melody in the background. The stillness of the moment, the fading sunlight outside the window and the rocking of the boat were softly calming, and Lena felt a heaviness behind her eyes. She could’ve fallen asleep right there, knowing that she was safe and warm, with Kara there with her. 

 

            Instead, they listened to the album in silence, a look of concentration on Kara’s face as she nodded along with the songs, occasionally quietly tapping to the rhythm and giving Lena the odd comment about her thoughts. When it came to a stop after the first side finished, Lena slipped out of the booth and turned the record over, playing the first side as  _ Second Hand News Started Playing. _

 

            When the song switched to  _ Dreams, _ even Lena found herself nodding her head to it, a warmth in her chest as the song played. It was one of her favourite ones, a song that it was nigh on impossible to not enjoy. Kara smiled when she caught her swaying slightly in her seat, and Lena gave her a shy smile, her cheeks turning rosy, but she didn’t make Lena feel silly, she only swayed more to match her.

 

            By the time they came to the last song on the album, Lena was smiling softly as the first notes of  _ Songbird _ played. She gave Kara a lopsided smile. “This one’s my favourite.”

 

            “Oh?” Kara said, draining the rest of her scotch and slipping out of the booth as she extended a hand to Lena, “come on then, Éire.”

 

            Already putting her hand in Kara’s, Lena’s brow furrowed. “What?”

 

            She allowed herself to be pulled to her feet, going willingly as Kara held her hand gently in her own, her thumb tracing the bumps of Lena’s knuckles. With an eye-crinkling smile, Kara drew her a little closer, until Lena could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her stomach lurching with surprise.

 

            “Well, you  _ have _ to dance to your favourite song. It’s the rules.”

 

            A quiet, shaky laugh fell from Lena’s lips as she found herself flustered, Kara changing the position of her hand so she was holding it delicately in hers before her other hand pressed against Lena’s lower back, warmth radiating through the thin fabric.

 

            “I don’t- I don’t really dance.”

 

            Yet she went willingly into her arms, so close to Kara that the shock seemed to clear her mind, her hand raising to drape over her shoulder and curl around her neck, their cheeks nearly brushing. Kara swayed them from side to side, their feet moving in a slow circle as the lyrics washed over them, quiet and personal, and Lena felt her throat close up slightly.

 

            “I told you, I’ll always dance with you.”

 

            Closing her eyes, the tension seemed to bleed out of Lena, and she found herself melting beneath Kara’s touch, her heart stumbling every time she felt Kara’s warm breath caress her cheek. Every time she felt her hand shift against her lower back or remembered the length of Kara’s tanned legs. She could smell the rain and lingering coconut sunscreen clinging to her skin, feel the thinness of her shoulder blades and the way her palm grew clammy in Lena’s. 

 

            In the dim light, with the sound of muffled rain and the gentle piano and the rich voice of Christine McVie crooning in the background, everything seemed so far away. Lena could hear her pulse, feel a lump in her throat and the nervous anticipation of waiting for something heavy in the air. 

 

            She could feel it as she pulled back slightly, her nose brushing Kara’s cheek, the quiet hitch in the blonde’s throat at the gliding feeling of skin against skin. It was undeniable as the side of Lena’s forehead rested against Kara’s, her head tilting slightly towards her as Kara’s breath hit the corner of her mouth, making goosebumps ripple across Lena’s skin. Cupping the back of Kara’s neck, Lena felt the telltale feel of goosebumps there too and tenderly stroked the nape of her neck, feeling the fine flyaway hairs there. Kara’s nose bumped against hers, almost affectionately nuzzling her, and Lena felt the taut tension between her shoulder blades dissipate as the air rushed out of her lungs.

 

            The first kiss just grazed the corner of her mouth, so featherlight that it made Lena’s chest ache as a longing she didn’t even know was there flared up strongly, the desire for more burning hotly within her. It took her by surprise, but then again, she was so repressed, so touch-starved that she craved the touch and intimacy of someone else. And she knew Kara did too. 

 

            The next was the light brush of soft lips against her own, her breath catching in her throat as her eyelashes fluttered, before she leant in, pressing herself more firmly against Kara. Their joined hands came undone, and Lena cupped Kara’s cheek in her hand, the other balled up in the back of the shirt, while Kara gently brushed a tangled lock of hair out of Lena’s face. 

 

            Breaking apart, Kara rested her forehead against Lena’s, and they stood there in the middle of the rocking boat, at a standstill as the song came to a close and the record player played nothing but quiet static. Everything felt quiet all of a sudden as if the world was taking a breath, and even the rain was nothing but the irregular pattern of the summer shower coming to an end. In the fading light of the day, Lena stood nose to nose with Kara, unsure of herself, but sure that she wanted whatever was about to happen. It was a mistake, but it would be a grand one.

 

            As Kara’s hands travelled over her shoulders and down her back, holding her close, Lena reached up and cupped her face in her hands, before she kissed her again with more fervour. Lena was nothing if not self-destructive, and she let the slow-burning feeling of Kara’s touch consume her, warmth rushing through her, from her head to her toes as Kara kissed her back with just as much need.

 

            She was turned by Kara’s urging hands, stumbling backwards, bumping into the edge of the table and into cupboards, nearly tripping over her own feet as she allowed herself to be propelled down the length of the boat. The door to the small bedroom was still open, and as soon as they stepped into the gloom Kara stopped. Pulling back, they stood scant inches from each other, breaths mingling as their chests rose and fell, and it was a silent question, one that Lena already knew the answer to. 

 

            Reaching out, she caressed Kara’s cheek and then pulled her back to her by the fabric of the worn t-shirt, kissing her on her jawline and then on her neck, down the slender arch of her neck as Kara tipped her head back, hair spilling around her shoulders. Lena’s lips lingered in the hollow of her throat, soft and patient, just waiting.

 

            And then Kara wrapped her slender fingers around Lena’s wrists and pushed her back, all the way down onto the mattress until she was hovering above her. Lena’s boots clattered loudly to the wooden floorboards as she kicked them off, in a daze as she looked up at the dark figure above her. She couldn’t see the expression on Kara’s face, but she could feel her, the feeling of her fingers sliding up her stomach, and she closed her eyes and pushed the guilt the welled up inside her back down.

 

            Kara gently tugged the t-shirt off her, her fingers deft and gentle, pulling it over Lena’s head as dark locks of tangled hair splayed across the stark white sheets. Lena was wrapped up in the darkness, feeling Kara’s touch, turning her face into her palm, her lips pressing a soft kiss to the skin as she lay there with her eyes closed. 

 

            Light fingers traced the lines of her face, following the sharp line of her cheekbones, the angle of her jaw, the hollow of her throat and back up to circle her lips, glide over her nose, and then, almost as if sensing it, brushed the pads of her thumbs over Lena’s closed eyes. Leaning down, Kara kissed high on Lena’s cheekbones, her lips a featherlight brush just beneath her eyes, and Lena’s eyelashes fluttered against Kara’s skin at the touch.

 

            “Éire?” her soft voice murmured, nose bumping against Lena’s temple before her lips were suddenly brushing her earlobe, making Lena shiver slightly. “Look at me.”

 

            Her eyes slowly opened, eyelashes fluttering again, and she lay pinned beneath Kara’s weight, staring up at the featureless shadow above her, blinking until her eyes adjusted and she could make out the vague lines of her face. There was just the faintest glow of light from the kitchen and the fading daylight for Lena to make out the hollows of her cheeks and eyes, the curve of her lips and nose, and Lena blinked. 

 

            Reaching up, she pushed Kara’s hair out of her face, holding it back in one hand, and cupped the side of her neck as she guided her face back down to her own, their lips coming together in a hard, lingering kiss. And then she let herself get swept away in the feeling of Kara’s lips, her hands, her tongue, hot against her skin and everywhere, a soft sigh falling from her lips as the last vestiges of tension bled out of her and she mumbled Kara’s name to the darkness.


	18. Chapter 18

_             “I’ve met someone else.” _

 

_             Lena’s stomach dropped at the words, catching her off-guard as the breath was forced from her lungs, leaving her breathless as she stared with wide, doleful eyes, full of confused agony. Her lips barely moved as her voice came out as a confounded gasp. _

 

_             “What?” _

 

_             “Lena,” Sam softly sighed, giving her a look of such pitying sadness that it made Lena’s gut wrench, “come on. We were never going to be together, you and I. That night was a mistake, we both know it.” _

 

_             Shaking her head, Lena choked on hitching breath, her heavy brow drawing together as a distressed look crumpled her face. “No. No it wasn’t, don’t say that.” _

 

_             "Lena-” _

 

_             Sam reached out to touch her arm, and Lena jerked back with a flinch, giving Sam a sharp look of anguish and accusation. “I don’t- why are you doing this? I love you, you know I do. Why- I don’t-” _

 

_             Shoulders going slack as she hung her head, Sam stood there for a moment, a forlorn air about her as her eyes swam with remorse and a silent plea for Lena to understand. Taking a slow step forward, she reached out again, taking hold of Lena’s cold hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. _

 

_             “I’m sorry.” _

 

_             “Sorry,” Lena choked out past numb lips, feeling some part of herself close off.  _

 

_             It was like a switch had been flipped, plunging her into the darkness that had always been waiting there beneath the surface, the darkness that Sam had pulled her out of over the past few years, full of all the grief and bottled up feelings Lena had refused to deal with. All of a sudden, she could barely feel a thing. Only the devastation that tore through her as she stood there helplessly, heart breaking into pieces over just a few words. _

 

_             “I didn’t want to tell you, but I- well, this just isn’t healthy. We can’t keep going on like this. I love you, Lena - really, I do - but … just not in that way. I’m sorry if I led you on, if I made you think that you and I- that we’d-” _

 

_             Snatching her hand back, Lena stood open-mouthed, unable to find the words as she felt everything around her crumble. She wanted to scream, to collapse to her knees and wrap her arms around herself, hold herself together when every bit of her was falling apart. But she was frozen. It was like she couldn’t move, couldn’t feel, couldn’t breathe. There was only one thought circling around in her mind; who? Who was the person that could give Sam what Lena clearly hadn’t been able to? _

 

_             “Will you at least tell me her name?” _

 

_             “Alex.” _

 

_ - _

 

            Lena woke in the small room in Kara’s cottage the next morning, beams of pure sunlight shining through a cloudless sky slanting across her face through the open curtains, blankets twisted around her legs and a loose-limbed ache throughout her body. It only took a few moments for the events of yesterday to catch up to her, jolting her wide awake as guilt and shame crashed into her.

 

            Sitting up, pink-cheeked and frazzled, running a hand through her tangled hair, Lena sat in bed blinking for a few moments as the weight of her actions settled down on her. And surprisingly, she found that she didn’t regret it. The guilt was there, the brooding feeling of betrayal nagging at the back of her mind, but Lena knew that was just the part of her that loved Sam. The rational part of her mind knew that it was stupid to feel that way, when things with Sam were so uncertain, and as she climbed out of bed, stretching out sore muscles, she found that she felt good.

 

            Still, she was a little flustered at the thought of seeing Kara again. The night was for the things they couldn’t say or do in broad daylight, but that didn’t mean they could ignore it when the sun came up, and she lingered in the cramped room for as long as she could. It was inevitable that they’d bump into each other, and it was a miracle, or by her own sheepishness, that Kara hadn’t come knocking to see if she wanted breakfast yet. 

 

            Eventually, Lena couldn’t put it off any longer. She’d showered and dressed, tidied up the room and her stomach was growling with hunger as the sun inched towards midday. It was nearly lunchtime before she plucked up the nerve to emerge from the dusty room, squaring her shoulders and summoning some of the stoic hardiness that she’d inherited from her family and their tough bargaining for antiques. 

 

            No sooner had she stepped out of the room, quietly shutting the door behind her, did Kara appear at the bottom of the stairs, her t-shirt stained with something vividly pink, and paused. They both stood there, staring at each other across the length of the staircase, before Kara slowly climbed up the first step and then another.

 

            “Hi.”

 

            “Morning.”

 

            “Um, how are you?”

 

            A choked laugh of surprise worked its way up Lena’s throat, and her eyebrows rose slightly as she smiled softly. It was such a Kara thing to ask, the tension thick in the air between them, last night unspoken but so clearly hanging over them, waiting for one of them to broach what had happened.

 

            “I’m good,” Lena murmured, and she could almost see the tension bleed out of Kara. “You?”

 

            Smiling as she neared the top step, Kara brushed her hair out of her face, her glasses perched on her nose today as her eyes creased at the corners. Climbing the top step, Kara’s shoulders slumped slightly and she gave Lena an exasperated look, gesturing towards the front of her t-shirt. 

 

            “It’s been one of those mornings. Rhubarb.”

 

            “A bit distracted, are you?”

 

            Cheeks reddening, Kara rolled her shoulders in a languid shrug, “something like that.”

 

            They fell silent for a moment, the urge to say something itching at the back of Lena’s mind, and she could feel the restlessness radiating off Kara as if she was struggling with the same feeling. Reaching out, Kara gently touched Lena’s arm, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth as she took in the  _ Folkestone _ t-shirt Lena had thrown on that morning, she jerked her head towards the closed door to her apartment.

 

            “Want to come in?”

 

            Nodding, Lena shifted restlessly, a stern look on her face as she watched Kara fish a key out of her apron pocket and unlock the door. Her apartment was cool and bright, sunlight slanting in at an angle, the wooden furniture shining richly with warm tones, and Lena shut the door behind herself as she followed Kara inside.

 

            Stripping off her apron, Kara tossed it onto the kitchen table, while Lena hovered in the open space of the apartment, listening to the steady tick of the grandfather clock she’d fixed and catching sight of a cat curled up on the piano stool. She smiled slightly, taking in the way the sunlight Streaky basked gave his black fur a fiery halo, and strolled towards him, crouching to run her fingers through the soft fur.

 

            “So, um, did you want something to eat? Some coffee?” Kara’s voice came from behind the screen, “I was hoping we could talk.”

 

            “About last night?” Lena ventured a hesitant guess, finding herself somewhat nervous at the inevitable conversation.

 

            Kara was likewise nervous, and her laugh came out strained as the sound of a drawer being opened reached Lena’s ears. Straightening up, she smoothed her hand over the fallboard of the piano keys, taking in the polished finish of the warm wood, before her eyes drifted upwards to the potted plants crowding the top of the piano. There were some photos jammed in between too.

 

            Reaching for the first one, Lena smiled as she glanced down at the photo of Kara, Imra, Gayle and Jack at what looked like the local pub, all of them wearing Christmas sweaters as they sat in a booth. It must’ve been an early staff party, pints in front of them and the rosy-cheeked and glassy-eyed looks of people who had already had a few too many. She quietly laughed, setting it back down, before reaching for the next one. There were three people in that one, and Lena recognised them all too. 

 

            Her stomach dropped as she took in the open-mouthed laughter on Kara’s face, her eyes shut and head slightly tipped back, and the hazel eyes and pretty smile of the woman perched on the sofa beside her. The arms of a woman with short brown hair were around her, her chin on her shoulder, and Lena felt herself go cold. Nothing could’ve prepared her for the sight of Sam nestled in between Kara and Alex.

 

            Setting the photo back down in a daze, Lena felt her throat close up as she blinked a few times, something inside her not quite right as it left her chilled. Feeling a tremor start up in her hands, she balled them into fists and swallowed thickly, a cold sweat breaking out on her skin as shocking realisation dawned on her. She couldn’t have known, of course. When she’d gotten her boat stuck in the archway of the bridge there was no way she could’ve known that Alex was Kara’s sister.

 

            But it was fitting. So perfectly fitting after everything Lena had been through, a bitter twist of fate to mess up one more thing in her life. Of  _ course _ it had been too good to think that she was okay, that she was healing, and it was in some part due to having met Kara. It had been a fanciful dream to think that she could be without Sam, that someone who wasn’t her could take her place, and Lena was painfully jolted right back to the reality of her heartbreak once more, and it left her breathless.

 

            “I have to go,” she managed to get out through between numb lips.

 

            “Oh, well maybe later,” Kara said, reemerging from behind the screen with a clean t-shirt on and a nervous look on her face as she chewed her bottom lip. “Are you going for a walk or-”

 

            “No, no, I have to  _ go.” _

 

            Brow furrowing, Kara gave her a bewildered look.  _ “Go? _ Your boat isn’t ready yet. You said it was going to be another few months at least.”

 

            “I lied.”

 

            “Wha- why would you lie about that? Look, if this is about last night, I’m sorry if it was weird for you-”

 

            Closing her eyes, Lena bowed her head, shoulders hunched as she pinched the bridge of her nose, and she found frustration welling up inside. How could she explain to Kara. How could she tell her the truth, after everything? She’d been there for months and had never even entertained the thought that Kara knew Sam, and now she was just supposed to tell her that she loved with her sister’s girlfriend? That she’d wanted to steal her back?

 

            And it was more than that. She thought she’d managed to get away from it all, left all of her pain behind and pieced herself back together, reinvented herself as someone new who took the time to appreciate the small things. But it was all a lie. Her every step was still haunted by Sam, and Lena still wanted her. The truth was that it was devastatingly painful to be in love with someone who was in love with someone else, but Lena didn’t know how to let go. She didn’t know how to say goodbye. 

 

            “It wasn’t just last night,” Lena said, her voice sounding cold even to her own ears. Distant, aloof, as if she was talking to a stranger. But her and Kara had never felt like strangers. Not for a moment. “I’ve lingered here for too long; I should’ve left a long time ago. I don’t know why I-”

 

            She bit off the rest of the sentence, realising it was a lie. Of course Lena knew why she’d stayed. It was the same reason why she fixed up the old furniture just to see the glow of happiness on Kara’s face, why she picked wildflowers and brought them home, why she helped her pick dandelions and ate dinner with her every night. It was Kara. It was the way she made Lena feel, the summer-glow of warmth in her chest that made her feel alive, half-euphoric and sheltered from the harsh parts of love. 

 

            “I can’t stay here any longer. I have to get to Paris.”

 

            “Paris,” Kara bitterly said, letting out a scoffing laugh as she shook her head, before pressing her lips into a grim smile. 

 

            There was a pain in that look, flickering in her eyes as Lena glanced up, and a peevishness that made Lena’s brow crumple into a confused frown. She swallowed the lump in her throat, giving Kara a searching look as she looked for any familiarity in her gaze, wondering if she’d known. Surely she would’ve said something. She wouldn’t have sat there and let Lena make a fool out of herself, spouting her plans to win Sam back from Kara’s own sister. All she saw was the brightness of pain as Kara failed to conceal it.

 

            “You know that’s where I was always going,” Lena softly said.

 

            “But she doesn’t even  _ love  _ you!” Kara exploded, her face crumpling as she gave Lena a yearning look, eyes softening with a sad plea. “You’re holding onto her when she just- she didn’t even  _ pick you. _ You were never-”

 

            Swallowing the harsh words full of truth, each one of them striking Lena with their blunt honesty, making her flinch as she let Kara vent her frustration, her confusion. And all the while, she knew that she was right and knew that it didn’t matter anyway. Lena already knew it was over, knew that it hadn’t even really begun, but her love for Sam had been so real that she couldn’t let go. 

 

            There was still a sliver of her that refused to believe it was over. She held onto that chance with the fractured pieces of who she was, rather than giving her up to save the person she’d been. Lena would ruin herself with her stubbornness and she didn’t even care. It already felt like a piece of her had died the first time Sam had left, and Lena had been forced to keep on living, despite her heartbreak. 

 

            And that pain hadn’t made her stronger. Her trip to find herself, to heal and become the person that Sam would be able to love had been nothing more than a wishful thought. Her suffering had been nothing more than that - plain suffering. As she felt something inside her come undone at the sight of the picture, of Sam with Alex, Lena knew she wasn’t strong enough to keep up the charade that she was okay. It just hurt.

 

            Perhaps she  _ had _ healed herself, but the sight of the picture had undone all her hard work, like picking at a loose piece of thread and unravelling the stitches that had held her together. Her heart was small, unused to being loved, and it had suffered too much. Yet it still kept on beating, despite all the hurt, and it ached deeply, painfully, for Sam. There was no closure for her unless she saw this through, and in a way, Lena had been living in the past, wrapped up in sore memories every day since she’d been left heartbroken. She needed to see this through, to be in that moment, to come to terms with the reality of her life.

 

            And that meant leaving Kara. The realisation of that hit her hard, and Lena couldn’t stop the guilt from welling up this time, regret weighing her down as she looked at Kara and saw the truth in her eyes. Saw the truth that Lena felt but would never be able to bring herself to utter. In the depths of Kara’s eyes were all the things she felt, hidden away under lock and key where they’d never be able to hurt her the way she’d been hurt by her feelings for Sam. But Lena knew them for what they were, and she ground her teeth together as a gut-wrenching pain twisted her insides.

 

            “You don’t know anything about us,” Lena softly said, her voice gentle but defensive.

 

            Even now, she couldn’t bring herself to hurt Kara. She couldn’t bring herself to bite, to put those walls back up. Lena just wanted her to  _ understand _ , without having to tell her the truth. The truth would only break Lena. She wasn’t ready for that yet, she’d already been broken too much.

 

            “But I know you, and I know me,” Kara said, foolish hope colouring her breathless words as she took a step towards Lena. “Please.”

 

            “There’s nothing here for me. I was just … filling an empty space for you. I’m sorry if I led you to believe it was anything more.”

 

            “I know you don’t love me, but I could make you  _ happy.” _

 

            Lena stiffened at the words, a deep ache in her chest as a sadness bloomed there, dark and dismal, staining her with bleak greyness of misery. It was a feeling she knew all too well, had revelled in for long stretches of time, basking in her own self-destruction as she let herself dissolve into the ruinous parts of herself. 

 

            It washed over her at times, until she disintegrated into the darkness. As she stood there, she could feel it opening up inside her once more, a yawning numbness that made her feel like there was a hole in the middle of her. It welcomed her, beckoned her close with the enticing bribe of emptiness. The ache in her chest was painful, and she couldn’t bear the thought of hurting Kara. The guilt would haunt her like a ghost, like all the other ones, chained to her as she dragged them after her, but she couldn’t stay. She couldn’t give Kara what she wanted.

 

            “Maybe,” Lena softly agreed, her shoulders weighed down heavily by sadness as she bowed her head, “but I can’t stay. It would only lead to one of us being hurt, and as much as I couldn’t bear for it to be you, I can’t let it be me. I wouldn’t survive it.”

 

            Kara made a choked sound of surprise, a desperate breathlessness in her voice as she took a stumbling step towards Lena, hand stretched out ever so slightly, as if to reach out and stop her.

 

            “Of  _ course _ we’ll hurt each other; it wouldn’t be love without the ugly parts. But I don’t want you to be temporary - I want you to  _ stay _ . I know you aren’t used to it, but I- well I want you to stay, because I can show you what it’s like to be wanted and loved. You don’t need to be deserving of it; I can give it to you freely.”

 

            “I just- I’m not the kind of person you pick first.”

 

            “You can’t be picked first if you’re not even an option,” Kara hotly replied, her voice cracking slightly as she broke down just a little bit.

 

            “You’re … too full of life to be half-loved by someone like me,” Lena thickly told her, “I’m not  _ good _ for you. I’m broken. More broken than you know, and you deserve someone who can love you completely. You’re wasted trying to fix me.”

 

            Kara’s face was flushed dark with anger, her eyes shining with tears that she wouldn’t let fall, and Lena could bring herself to meet her gaze. She’d been on the receiving end of this before - they  _ both _ had - and Lena didn’t want to see the hurt she’d suffered reflected in Kara’s eyes. This was a different kind of pain than Kara would have endured before, but no less hurtful because of it, and Lena was filled with bitter self-hatred as she stared at the floorboards.

 

            They descended into heavy silence for a few moments, as Kara was left speechless, mouth open as she struggled to find the words to reply to the devastating blow of Lena’s rejection. After a moment, Lena nodded, mouth in a flat line and turned to go, her footsteps heavy and final as she walked out of the room. 

 

            Kara didn’t come after her and it was both a relief and bitter blow. In the small room, Lena looked around, taking in the furniture that she’d fixed, the room emptier now than it had been before as Kara had found places downstairs for stools and armchairs and cabinets. But it was still comfortably cluttered and Lena felt a pang of sadness at the thought of leaving it behind. It had been something of a haven for her, a glimpse at the life she’d left behind, a way for her to fix something that she knew how to fix.

 

            Her bag was mostly packed anyway, and Lena quickly packed the rest of her things with shaking hands, finding it hard to breathe as a lump got caught in her throat. She trembled and felt weak as she stuffed her tools in her bag and did the top up and buckled the straps. The last thing she did before leaving the room was set an old record on the gramophone, a last gift to Kara as she switched it on, having finished fixing it the night before, working long into the morning to finish it. The sound of Billie Holiday’s voice filled the space and she heaved her bag onto her back, squared her shoulders and stepped out of the room, leaving the door wide open. 

 

            Footsteps slow and resolute on the wooden staircase, she made it to the bottom before she heard the quiet click of Kara’s door opening and the uncertain footstep out into the hallway. Under different circumstances, Lena knew there’d be a smile of unabashed joy on Kara’s face, and it hurt to think that there wouldn’t be one on her face right now, because of Lena.

 

            She stepped out into the café and stood in front of the till slipping one bag strap from her shoulder and reaching into the front to pull out a thick wad of cash. It was more than she owed Kara for the weeks spent at her cottage, but Lena waved Imra over and shoved the stack into her hand.

 

            “Give this to Kara.”

 

            “What?”

 

            “Look after her for me.”

            

            “Wait, you’re  _ leaving?” _

 

            Lena nodded tersely, slipping the strap back onto her shoulder, and stood there for a moment. She deliberated for a heartbeat, wondering whether to say more or leave it at that. It seemed cowardly to relay a message to Karaa through her friend, so she swallowed the apology on the tip of her tongue and nodded again.

 

            “Bye, Imra.”

 

            Turning before the other woman could make anything more than a choked sound of surprise, Lena stalked towards the door and stepped out into the warm summer’s day. It was perfect. Clear blue skies, the sound of leaves rustling on the trees as the air was laced with the faint smell of apples in the orchard beyond the cottage, pollen spiralling past as bees droned and swallows swooped past. 

 

            She faltered slightly just outside, standing on the lawn as she took in the beauty of the countryside, really let herself bask in the peaceful perfection of it, and it was with bitter regret that she put one foot in front of the other and briskly walked towards the boat drifting in the shallows of the river. It had been parked there for a few days, and Lena wasn’t even sure if it was fit to travel in, but she’d set everything on fire and couldn’t bring herself to stay to put out the flames.

 

          _“Lena!”_

 

            The sharp bark stopped her in her tracks, her eyes widening with unabashed shock as she turned to watch Kara rush towards her, apron in hand and a stormy look in her eyes. It was almost enough to make Lena take a step backwards, but she was made of sterner stuff than that and stood her ground, raising her chin slightly as her stomach sank.

 

            She’d hoped Kara wouldn’t fight her on it. There would be no changing Lena’s mind, no matter how badly she wanted to stay, how badly she wanted to be able to give in to the part of her that flourished around Kara, yearned for her gentle touch and warm smiles. It was not knowing she couldn’t stand. The not knowing of what would happen if she didn’t go to Paris, and Lena knew she had to exhaust every possibility, get the closure she needed before she could even think of anything else.

 

            “That’s it? That’s all I get?” Kara asked, her voice cracking as she spread her hands. “You’re not even going to- to  _ try?” _

 

            “I don’t know what else I can do.”

 

            Making a low sound of irritation at the back of her throat, Kara closed the distance between them and shoved the wad of cash Lena had left inside at her chest. Stumbling backwards slightly, Lena brought her hand up to cover it, a defeated slump to her shoulders as she gave Kara a sad look.

 

            “Go on then. Go. Take your money and go.”

 

            “No, it’s yours,” Lena softly refused, holding it back out to her as Kara looked down at the grass, fiddling with her glasses as she tried to keep the tears at bay.

 

            Lena could see her throat bob as she swallowed thickly, the way she refused to look at her, squinting slightly as her gaze roamed around, taking in everything except her. There was deep pain there, the pain of someone leaving, and Lena knew it all too well and hated to be the one to do it to Kara too.

 

            “Keep it. I don’t want anything from you,” Kara said, her bottom lip trembling slightly as she crossed her arms over her chest.

 

            A wounded expression flickered across Lena’s face as she felt guilt rise strongly within her, and she stepped towards Kara, crossing the space quickly to wrap her in a tight hug. She could feel the tautness of her shoulders, and then the release of that tension as Kara went slack in her arms, a tremble running through her as she buried her face in Lena’s shoulder.

 

            It hurt, that kind of pain, and for the first time, Lena had an inkling of how much it must’ve hurt Sam to have to do that to her. Lena didn’t want to hurt Kara, in fact, she wished more than anything that she could’ve been the person who could love her, the person that Kara deserved. She realised with startling clarity in that moment that she wanted that more than anything. Perhaps more than she wanted to go to Paris. Yet she couldn’t be that person, and so she had to leave anyway.

 

            Pulling back, she took in Kara’s bloodshot eyes and quiet, shuddering breath, and felt the last stitch inside her come undone before unbridled pain slammed into her. The worst part was that Lena was doing it to herself this time. It was almost as if she couldn’t help but destroy anything resembling happiness because she didn’t think she was worthy of it. Lena was her own worst enemy in that regard. Yet she couldn’t deny the ache in her chest for Kara.

 

            She reached up and cupped Kara’s face between her cold hands, regret milling in her green eyes, and stared at her for a moment, her eyes searching, drinking in the sight of Kara. And then Kara grabbed fistfuls of Lena’s shirt and pulled her close, pressing a firm kiss to her lips. Lena felt her resolve waver as she stood there, eyelids fluttering closed as she melted into the touch of Kara’s unyielding lips. 

 

            What would it be like to be kissed by her every day? She could almost envision herself, staying at the cottage, enjoying a quiet life. But then Lena dropped her hands and encircled Kara’s wrists with slender fingers. Breaking off the kiss, she removed Kara’s hands from her t-shirt and took a measured step back.

 

            “I’m sorry.”

 

            “Tell me that you’re not happy here,” Kara begged, her voice small and pleading. “Tell me you don’t want to stay.”

 

            Exhaling sharply, Lena ran a hand through her hair, grabbing a fistful as she stood there rigidly. This wasn’t as clean as she’d hoped.

 

            “I can’t.”

 

            “Then  _ don’t go. _ I know you want her, but she doesn’t want  _ you. _ And I’m sorry that you’re hurting, but I can help fix you. I can give you what you want.”

 

            Closing her eyes, Lena deflated. “It’s not your job to fix me, Kara.”

 

            “Then let me  _ help you. God, _ why are you so  _ stubborn?! _ Just let me help you! You think you’re the only one who’s ever been  _ left _ before? I  _ know _ how this feels. I know what it’s like to be heartbroken and I can be patient with you. I’d never ask you for anything you can’t give me.”

 

            “You can’t spend your life waiting around for people who might never be ready,” Lena said, a sorrowful look on her face as she stared at Kara with mournful eyes. Stepping in close, Lena placed a tenderly soft kiss to Kara’s cheek with finality, before drawing back. “Goodbye, Kara.”

 

            She gently pressed the money into her hands and stepped back, holding onto her hand for a moment longer, at arm’s length, before her hand dropped listlessly back to her side. Turning around, she quickly untied the bow, watching the nose of the boat drift freely away from the bank, before moving back to the stern.

 

            Tossing her bag onto the small deck of the stern, Lena quickly undid the knot holding the narrowboat to the tree and tossed the length of hemp onto the boat, before quickly propelling herself across the widening gap of water between the riverbank and stern. She landed solidly on the wooden deck, and against her better judgement, she looked back.

 

            Lena looked back at the lonely figure standing where she’d left her, shoulders stiff, lip quivering as she tried her hardest to press her mouth into a flat line to keep a sob at bay, the tendons standing out in her neck from the effort as tears ran down her cheeks from a pair of devastated bloodshot, blue eyes. It broke her heart just a little bit more. And if heartbreak had felt like something of a death she’d been forced to keep on living through, so did this goodbye. 

 

            A sharp pain tore through her chest as Lena turned back around, starting up the engine of the boat and standing stoically by the tiller as she let the current of the river tow her along. And behind her, the cottage grew smaller, while the weight of her decision weighed so heavily on her that Lena thought it would crush her beneath it. 

 

            It was physically hard to breathe, and with wide eyes, she clutched at her chest, heaving as she drew in shallow breaths, her whole chest constricting painfully. As the narrow river drew her north-east, the cottage slipped out of sight, leaving behind the biggest regret of Lena’s life. The worst part was that she knew it too. It was with a heavy heart and grim resolution that she went towards a different kind of heartbreak, knowing there was nothing there for her anyway, but knowing she had to say goodbye. While the chance at a life of love and happiness was left of the riverbank with a broken heart and a flimsy excuse of a goodbye.

 

            She stopped breathing for a moment as realisation set in, before letting out her pent up breath and nearly collapsing at the weakness that washed over her. Her whole body trembled, and there was a different kind of hollowness to her, one that spoke of a sudden emptiness that she hadn’t been expecting. It was almost like hunger, gnawing at her insides like it hadn’t done in months. It was different to the numbing absence of emotion, but it yawned widely inside Lena, until she slowly sank down to the deck of the boat, one hand clutching the tiller as she steered blindly, unable to stand.

 

            But she had to keep going. The river stretched on and on, entering unfamiliar territory through the downs and northwards, winding back and forth. It was already afternoon, the sun shining hotly overhead and the water was still and silent, leaving Lena with her tormenting thoughts and bitter self-hatred. 

 

            She stopped after an hour or so, docking just outside of a place called Bridge and made her way into the dark cabin of the narrowboat. It felt cold and empty, an air of disuse about it, even as she spied the nearly empty bottle of scotch and the cups they’d been drinking out of only the night before. Anger burned with a searing heat inside her at the sight of it, and Lena let her bag slip from her limp fingers and thud to the floor.

 

            Falling to the floor beside it, she reached for one of the pockets on her bag and sifted through the envelopes of letters she’d never sent, before pulling out the worn photograph and staring down at the smiling face looking back up at her with misery. How could she love someone so much and feel so sad at the fact that she’d left someone else? There were two halves of her heart at war, and Lena didn’t know how to manage it.

 

            She didn’t move again until the afternoon was growing late, the first hint of sunset in the dipping sun as it made its way towards the horizon. It was then that Lena climbed to her feet, fishing a handful of change out of her bag, and stepped back out onto the stern.

 

            Locking up the door, she disembarked on the riverbank and walked towards the collection of buildings and first few yellow lights, her shoulders bowed beneath the weight of her decision and her stomach rumbling with hunger. She hadn’t eaten all day, and there was nothing on her boat, yet she couldn’t even bring herself to buy something to eat as she passed by bakery’s getting ready to close down, cosy restaurants open for the night and shopping centres lit up brightly with packed shelves.

 

            Instead, she found the nearest phone booth and slipped inside, feeding the machine coins and dialling a familiar number as she pressed the plastic phone to her ear. Tired and defeated, Lena leant back against the wall of the booth, fighting back the maelstrom of emotions inside that threatened to overwhelm her as she listened to the phone ring. Eventually, it went to voicemail, as she’d known it would.

 

            “Hey, it’s me,” Lena said after the tone, her voice uncertain and hoarse. “I know it’s been a while … I meant to call you again, but I- I guess I didn’t want to get sent to voicemail again. I, uh, I’m on my way to Paris, though. I think I’ll get there by the end of the week. I wanted to see you there, to say a proper goodbye, if that’s what you- well, it’s up to you. But I’m ready now.”

 

            She paused, unsure of what else to say, feeling herself come undone as she trembled with the strange feebleness of loss as she bit her lip, hard. 

 

            “I’ll call you when I get there.”

 

            Slamming the phone back down, she left the coins it spat back out at her and made the slow walk back to her boat, where she spent the rest of the night drinking the remaining scotch straight from the bottle and feeding the splintered pieces of the clocks she’d amassed to the wood-burning stove as she tried to drive away the chill that permeated her body. No matter how hot the flames burned, eating up the wood she fed it, all of her hard work coming undone as she dashed them against the floor to splinter them apart, the cold didn’t seem to go away. She felt like she’d never feel warm ever again.


	19. Chapter 19

_ But, as old Swedish legends say, _ _   
_ _ Of all the birds upon that day, _ _   
_ _ The swallow felt the deepest grief, _ _   
_ _ And longed to give her Lord relief, _ _   
_ _ And chirped when any near would come, _ _   
_ _ "Hugswala swala swal honom!" _ _   
_ _ Meaning, as they who tell it deem, _ _   
_ __ Oh, cool, oh, cool and comfort Him!

 

_ -Charles Godfrey Leland, The Swallow. _

 

-

 

            Lena didn’t linger in Bridge any longer than dawn, her eyes gritty from a sleepless night spent before the smoking fire, the sour taste of alcohol on her breath as the violet sky welcomed an early sunrise. Emerging from the cabin, she stepped out into the mild coolness of the early morning, taking in the layer of dew sparkling in the first caressing fingers of sunshine peeking over the horizon and took her spot by the tiller.

 

            Ambling along the river, she followed it east and then south, before it bent back on itself, heading west and then south again. She basked in the warmth as the day grew hotter, slumped beside the tiller as she listened to the rippling of water and the song of birds, her mind consumed by thoughts of Kara.

 

            As she sailed along, Lena recalled the long summer days of the June they’d shared, eating wild strawberries and drinking wine so dark it was almost black. Mornings spent walking amongst the dew and the clover, watching as a tangerine dawn swept across the downs and sharpened the edges of the landscape below. She thought of how she’d wished that she could live that life of rainy days spent drinking tea by the window, staring out at the river with a cat curled up in her lap, dancing to old records and reading good books in the sunshine, of the inner peace brought by a rosy sunset and the sounds of leave rustling in a warm breeze.

 

            She’d wished for that life so badly, without even realising that she’d been living it all along. It had been hers for the taking, offered up with an extended hand and the promise of love, and she’d been too cowardly to accept it, to give in to what she truly wanted for once in her life. And now, all she wanted was the feeling of lying on Kara’s bare chest and the feeling of peace that had come with it, wrapped up in darkness and silence, listening to her heartbeat as gentle fingers ran through her hair. How Lena had  _ wished _ for a touch like that. And she’d shunned it at the first chance she’d gotten.

 

            Yet even as detached as she was, trying her best to hold back the floodgates of painful emotions as she let the numbness mercifully steal all feeling from her, she couldn’t help but care. She felt separate from herself, existing in that state of someone else controlling her body as she dwelled dormant inside, yet she cared about Kara so much that a pressure burned behind her eyes and her throat closed up. 

 

            The river widened as it made its way back east, and she passed a few smaller boats on her way, in a daze as she followed the flow of water as if she had no control over herself. She followed it with little thought to where she was going or what came next, no hope for tomorrow or anything. She just floated along, much as she had through most of her life, waiting for someone to take control for her and give her a sense of direction, of purpose, amidst a sea of nothingness she existed in. Lena felt exactly what she was at that moment, adrift on a boat with no home, searching for something she couldn’t quite name.

 

            Sailing all day, she made it to Pegwell bay by early afternoon, the mouth of the River Stour spilling out to the sea, while a stretch of golden sand curved around the bay to her right. The water was a clear turquoise near the shore, darkening further out as the water grew deeper and stronger waves rolled in. The air smelled of salt and there were birds wheeling around overhead as Lena squinted through the harsh sunshine.

 

            It was quiet. The only sound was the waves crashing on the shore, and she propelled the boat forward with her careful steering of the tiller, eyeing the town on the far left of the bay as the coast curved back around. There were a few boats out, bobbing like toys far ahead of her, and Lena’s narrowboat drifted through the shallows of the clear water, the sandy floor crystal clear beneath her.

 

            She patted the pocket of her jeans, where her photograph of Sam was safely tucked away, wilting with exhaustion as the unbridled intensity of the sun shone down on her. Hunger gnawed at her, her eyes were ringed with dark shadows and the only thing she’d had to drink had been the scotch last night, which she was sweating out in the heat, her t-shirt clinging to her lower back as it dampened with sweat. 

 

            Perhaps if she’d gotten some sleep, eaten breakfast or stayed hydrated, the nagging at the back of her mind wouldn’t have gone unobserved. As it was, Lena ignored it, tired and drooping with exhaustion as she stood at the tiller as she had for hours on end, her skin reddening from too much time spent in the sun, and she steered right out towards the waves rolling in.

 

            It wasn’t necessarily impossible to take a narrowboat out to sea, especially on such a narrow stretch as the English Channel, but it wasn’t exactly something a novice should’ve tried. The proportions were just off. The boat was too long, and at the south-easterly angle, Lena steered, the waves crashed against the slanted port side of the boat. The waves crashed against the wood, gently at first, seeing as she was still so close to shore, throwing her course off-kilter as it tried to wash her back in with the tide, and Lena’s brow furrowed as she struggled to steer.

 

            Changing her course for a more head-on easterly approach out into the channel, Lena stood tall, clinging to the tiller, a wariness brewing in her solemn green eyes. Rivers and canals were flat, their surfaces glassy and relatively undisturbed, dragging her along with their gentle, hidden current. Not like the sea. For the first time, she had reservations about her plan to sail to France. Especially in her boat that she didn’t finish testing.

 

            The first moment of panic came when she hit her first slightly bigger wave. The bow tilted upwards, riding the crest of it, and Lena’s eyed widened as she watched the boat tilt up at an alarming angle, before slamming back down onto the dark blue water with a spray of white, until she was staring down the length of the boat as the stern rose. 

 

            Given the length of the boat, the stern was still riding the crest of the wave that swept beneath it when another one crashed into the bow, water running over the deck as the boat went through the wave and then surfaced with another spray of water. The wave rolled towards the back of the boat, where Lena stood, and her stomach lurched uncomfortably with an unfamiliar nauseousness, moments before she was splattered with frigid seawater.

 

            For all her boat had managed to hold together over the past few days, bobbing idly on the riverbank outside  _ The Swallow’s Nest _ and trundling along the winding back and forth part of the river, it wasn’t made to withstand the pounding of waves against its hull. Lena was suddenly filled with the gripping terror of sinking at sea, struggling to keep her head above water until she was inevitably sucked down to the bottom with all the debris of fishing boats and garbage. 

 

            She had the thought to turn back, but it struck her with sudden clarity that if she tried to turn the narrowboat back around, the second it became parallel to a wave, the whole thing could capsize. Instead, Lena ploughed on, heading further out into the rough water. Despite the mildness of the summer day, the sea had a mind of its own, and the sunshine and clear skies did nothing to keep the rocking waves at bay as Lena was buffeted and pounded until she was soaked through. 

 

            Dark hair clung to her wet skin as she spluttered through a faceful of saltwater, fingers of cold water running down the back of her t-shirt as the stern slammed down heavily onto the water, another wave already crashing over the bow as it struggled through the onslaught of water. And as the bow resurfaced with a surge of water running off the deck, Lena frowned, taking in the way that the water ran back  _ on _ to the deck. 

 

            The stern rose again as the wave rolled beneath the hull, and as she slammed back down with a jolting thud and another spout of water, she realised that water was pooling on the deck. The impact should’ve sent the water elsewhere in a fine mist of spray, but as she watched, Lena realised the water was running  _ onto _ the deck. It trickled over the edge of the low lip enclosing the stern, lapping at her boots as she let go of the tiller and rushed to the side, gripping cold, wet metal in her hands.

 

            Craning her neck, she looked along the length of the narrowboat and realised with a jolt of dread that the boat was sitting low in the water. With certainty, Lena knew that the hull had been battered by the waves too much, with nothing but a sheer, flimsy layer of resin covering it, and water had found its way in. It didn’t matter which way the waves buffeted the boat; it was slowly sinking.

 

            With no one in control of the tiller, the boat had slowly turned off course, bow angling southerly, putting it at an angle to the waves, and Lena’s stomach lurched sickeningly as the next wave hit. Panic set in, and she watched with wide-eyes as the bow slammed back down on the water at an unsteady slant as the boat rocked from side to side. 

 

            Pausing for a moment, Lena quickly scrambled for the door to the cabin, staggering unsteadily down the few steps, her knees nearly buckling as the stern rose and she found herself staring down the uneven length of the cabin, before she fell back onto the steps, water rushing over her back and pooling on the cedar floorboards. Cursing, Lena struggled to her feet and lurched for the cupboard beneath the small sink, scrambling through the first aid kit and the manuals and bottles of gas, until she found a flare gun.

 

            With the neon orange gun in hand, she nearly fell back out of the cabin as the bow rose and the boat tipped, her left shoulder painfully slamming against the door frame at the lopsided tilt. Clinging to the door handle as she hovered in the doorway, water running over her feet as the boat settled even lower in the sea, Lena pointed the flare gun at the stretch of blue sky overhead.

 

            With a squeeze of the trigger, she launched the flare into the sky and slumped against the doorframe as she let the gun clatter down the steps to lay abandoned on the cabin floor. Staring out at the distant shore and the expanse of blue everywhere, Lena stood in the doorway, clinging to the door handle as it was wrested back and forth by the lurching motions of the boat, and waited.

 

            It was over half an hour before the spluttering engine of a boat made itself known, and at the shout of a man’s voice, she stepped out on the deck, wading through water that was halfway up her shins, dripping wet from the sea spray and shivering violently. She took in the blue peeling paint of the fishing boat and stood at the rusted railing, staring blankly ahead as she watched it pull up alongside the sinking narrowboat.

 

            The rescue was a blur. She remembered being hauled onboard by two pairs of hands, set down on a bench set against one wall as the voice of the kindly man driving the boat washed over her, his questions unanswered, while she shivered in the cold spray of the sea. Arms clutched around herself, Lena trembled in stunned silence. The only things she had with her were the clothes on her back, the Cartier watch on her wrist, the golden swallow necklace and the folded photo in the pocket of her soaked jeans.

 

            Everything else, from the letters she’d written to Sam to her passport, was sinking with the rest of the boat, and she was powerless to do anything but watch in a daze as she was whisked away to the port of the town she’d spied from the mouth of the bay. They passed a lifeboat on the way, the captain waving to them and speaking over the radio before Lena was taken right into the port and deposited on the dock by a pair of gentle hands. 

 

            One of the fishermen led her along the swaying jetty lined with a variety of moored boats, and knocked on the door to the lifeboat station, a square wooden building on stilts, extending out over the green water of the port. It was opened by an ageing man and she was taken inside, dripping water onto the wooden floorboards as she found herself in a cramped office full of equipment.

 

            “Here, why don’t you sit?” the man said, giving her a grim smile, his dark eyes full of understanding as he gestured towards a chair set beneath a window.

 

            Lena all but collapsed onto it, hands clenched into fists in her lap as she hunched her shoulders and shivered. The gentle caress of a scratchy blanket being draped over her shoulders make her look up, blinking owlishly in surprise at the old man as he gave her a kindly smile.

 

            “Right, well you  _ look _ fine. Just a bit shaken, I’d say,” he rambled, shuffling around the place, metal clinking and cupboards opening and closing, before he walked back over to her and pushed a tin cup into her hand. “Go on now. It’s some brandy leftover from Christmas, I think. It’ll warm you right up while we wait for someone to come and collect you.”

 

            He gently patted her shoulder before walking towards a cluttered desk, taking a seat behind it as Lena held the cup in one hand and tugged the blanket more securely around her shoulders. Wiping curls of wet hair out of her face, she opened and closed her mouth, struggling for a moment, before her shoulders slumped.

 

            “I don’t have anyone to call?”

 

            “No one?”

 

            “I-” she trailed off, shame turning her bitten cheeks even redder, as a slow shrug rolled her shoulders and her bottom lip trembled. “Can you look up a number for me?”

 

            He nodded, straightening up in his seat and picking up a worn copy of the  _ Yellow Pages _ , perching a small pair of glasses on the bridge of his nose and looking at Lena over the top of them. She gave him the name of the teahouse and watched him thumb through the thick directory, absentmindedly raising the cup to her lips, almost as an afterthought, and took a small sip of the brandy.

 

            It went down like bad whisky, but it warmed her insides, and she soon set the empty tin cup on the edge of the man’s desk, murmuring her thanks as he ran a finger down the page of names and numbers. Eventually, he let out a small sound of triumph and turned the book around, thumping it down on the desk and tapping his finger on a yellow page. He reached for an old plastic telephone, one with a cord, and set it down beside it.

 

            “You make your phone call while I boil the kettle. Get some tea inside you, yeah?”

 

            She dipped her head in grateful acknowledgement, before wiping her nose and sniffing, trying to stamp down the fluttering nervousness inside her as she reached for the phone. Punching in the numbers from the directory, Lena chewed her bottom lip, foot tapping nervously on the floor as her eyes kept darting to the old man as he pottered about. 

 

            It rang three times before there was an answer, and she exhaled forcefully as the call connected and a familiar voice came through the other end. It wasn’t the one she’d wanted to hear, but it was familiar and that was all that mattered.

 

_             “Hello?” _

 

            “Imra, it’s, uh, it’s Lena. Can you put Kara on for me?”

 

            There was a pause, and she could hear the faint sound of conversation in the background, and then the sound of things being banged around, as if Imra had walked into the kitchen with the phone. She couldn’t hear the muffled conversation that ensued, but Imra was back on the phone a minute later.

 

_             “Sorry, she’s busy.” _

 

            “Imra, I- look … I know she doesn’t want to talk to me, but I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. I was- I was in an accident. I don’t know who else to call.”

 

            There was another pause and a quick, hushed conversation.

 

_             “Where are you?” _

 

            Lena nearly went weak with relief at the sound of Kara’s quiet, anxious voice, her throat suddenly closing up as she found herself speechless, the urge to apologise, to explain herself so strong that if she could speak, she felt like she wouldn’t have been able to stop the words from rushing out of her. Instead, she swallowed the thick lump that had lodged itself in her throat and drew in a shaky breath.

 

            “Ramsgate lifeboat station.”

 

            The line went dead after that, and Lena gently set the phone back down on the receiver, blowing all the air out of her lungs as she ran a hand over her face. She was uncomfortably wet, salt crusting her hair and a sleepless night and lack of food wearing away at her. But she was content to sit there, knowing that Kara was coming. Or at least that was what Lena had taken from their short exchange, and knew with her whole heart that Kara would come and get her. And for that, she was consumed with guilt.

 

            As she sat there inside the small building, the kettle bubbling softly in the background as it came to a boil, a few crew members came in, eyeing her with interest and bemusement as they filled the space. They asked her some questions about the boat as a cup of tea was sent down on the desk for her, checked her over and gave her a t-shirt from the lost and found once they were sure she wasn’t hurt, just a bit damp. 

 

            Afterwards, she excused herself for some fresh air in the warmth, sitting down on an overturned crate looking out over the water as she drank her tea and sat with the blanket wrapped around her shoulders in the shade of the station. It was quiet and she watched the boats come and go as seagulls cried out and she watched the last few feet of her boat sink from afar. 

 

            She sat in the patch of shade, watching with a stormy look in her eyes as dusk started to approach, the sunlight just a little less harsh as it bowed gracefully in wake of the rising moon, wisps of clouds painted red as they were lit from beneath by the apricot sky. Everything she’d hoped for came crashing down on her as she sat there, her chance at finding some sense of closure snatched right out of her grasp, the distant shore of France so close, yet not close enough. And as she watched, the surface of the sea a deep wine purple as the setting sun set the cresting waves on fire, the  _ Tess _ sank beneath the sea to be reclaimed by algae and barnacles or salvaged by a marine crew.

 

            There was a heaviness in her chest, a grave look to her face as she wallowed, feeling strangely unsteady in a way that she’d never been before. Her hair was a tangled salt-encrusted mess, snarls falling into her grey face as she looked out at the water with haunted eyes, dark smudges beneath them giving her a hollowed out look. The bridge of her nose was peeling ever so slightly and her eyes were bloodshot from the salt, and she had the strangest sensation as if she was going to  _ cry. _ But Lena didn’t cry; she hadn’t cried since her father’s funeral when she was a child.

 

            And then a shadow fell across her and her head slowly rose, expecting to see one of the crew members of the station coming out to check on her as they’d been doing intermittently for the better part of an hour, but instead, she looked up into a pair of familiar blue eyes and felt her heart seize as her stomach lurched.

 

            “Hi,” Kara said, her eyes full of sadness as she gave Lena a grim smile.

 

            Promptly, Lena burst into tears.

 

            She couldn’t say who was more shocked - her or Kara - but she couldn’t help herself. There were  _ years _ of grief, of heartbreak and sadness, of every bad feeling that had happened to her just bottled up inside, and seeing Kara had opened the floodgates. Hunched beneath the weight of her sadness, Lena put her face in her hands and shook with gut-wrenching sobs as she cried for the first time since she was a kid.

 

            An arm wrapped around her shoulder and she found herself sobbing into the shoulder of Kara’s shirt, breathing in the earthy smell of ground coffee beans and the tartness of sour cherries in between hitching breaths. Lena was mortified but couldn’t bring herself to stop. She didn’t know what was wrong with her, but the tears just kept coming, and she was powerless to move as Kara cradled her head gently against her shoulder, rubbing her back as she murmured soothing nothings. 

 

            The sky was salmon pink, tipping towards lavender as the sun sank lower and lower and the sky darkened, by the time they left. With the blanket still drawn around her shoulders and the dregs of her tea swirling around the bottom of her cup, Lena was guided by Kara’s arm around her back, tears staining her cheeks as she sobbed quietly, trying to swallow them.

 

            At the door to the station, Kara took the blanket and pried the cup out of Lena’s stiff grip, and let herself into the building, talking quietly to the crew inside, before she stepped back out and gently led Lena away from the place, away from the wreckage of her hopes for her and Sam. She led her towards the powder blue beetle parked on the nearby lot, obviously hastily borrowed off Imra, and Lena collapsed onto the passenger seat with defeated exhaustion, her breath hitching as she cried quietly, sitting in her damp jeans with embarrassment and remorse threatening to overwhelm her.

 

            Kara reached over and gave her hand a gentle squeeze, and Lena looked away, letting her birds nest of hair fall between them as she tried to hide her face from Kara’s searching eyes. Lena couldn’t look at her. She couldn’t see the kindness and concern brimming in her eyes as she took in the pitiful mess that Lena had dissolved into, knowing that she didn’t deserve it, no matter Kara’s opinion that she didn’t  _ have _ to. Hatred and anger would’ve been more manageable emotions to see writhing in Kara’s eyes, but she knew it would be absent. 

 

            She cried the whole way home, back to the teahouse, and it didn’t even occur to her how it  _ was _ her home and the only place that had ever felt like one. Not even her family’s estate, with Sam, had felt that way to Lena. In a sense, she’d been trying to find a home her entire life, and she hadn’t even realised she’d found it when it had been staring her right in the face. Now, all she wanted to do was go home with Kara, perhaps even come home to her every day for the rest of her life. So she sat there in the passenger seat, choking on sobs, wiping tears from her cheeks and drawing in shaky, hitching breaths as she surrendered herself to failure.

 

            It was nearly dark when they pulled up at the end of the parking lot, right alongside the path, Kara cutting the loud, idling engine while Lena sat frozen to the seat, her chest heaving as her breath caught in her throat. They hadn’t said a word the entire way home, and it had been a long drive.

 

            Kara’s warm hands guided her out of the car and she shut the door behind Lena, before taking her hand in her own and leading her along, aware that Lena was in some state of shock and unresponsive to anything but her silent urges, for the most part. They walked along the garden path, hand in hand, and Lena stared blankly at the twilight, as dusk blurred the edges of the world and leached the colour from it.

 

            Unlocking the back door, Kara pressed her fingers to Lena’s lower back as she ushered her inside, locking the door again afterwards, and steered her through the café, to the end of the staircase. Lena silently glided up them, feeling so detached from her own body that it could’ve been a dream for all she felt like an outsider, watching it all play out in front of her.

 

            Inside the apartment, she was propelled straight into the bathroom, shivering in the stiff, salty jeans and the t-shirt that went down to mid-thigh. Kara turned the bath on and put the plug in, sitting on the edge of the tub as she held her hand beneath the tap to test the temperature, before climbing to her feet again. As her hands reached out and pulled the bottom of the oversized t-shirt up, Lena let out a strangled sob and dissolved into tears again, trying to muffle the whimpers and quiet cries as hot tears spilt down her cheeks.

 

            She let Kara undress her, feeling no shame, no self-consciousness beneath the stark light of the naked bulb overhead, nothing but the numb detachment and pit of emptiness inside her chest as the ragged edges of her fractured heart came apart. When the bath was full enough, she stepped in unprompted, her skin rippling with goosebumps at the sudden warmth the water sent rushing through her feet and up her legs.

 

            Slowly sinking beneath the water, she sat there, bottom lip trembling as she cried, and would’ve been content to sit there for the rest of the night, staring at the curved neck of the bathtub. But a few moments later, Kara knelt beside her, scooping handfuls of warm water of her bare back and shoulders, while Lena sniffled and surreptitiously tried to wipe at her salt-stained cheeks. 

 

            She sat there helplessly as Kara scrubbed the salt from her skin, washed the tangled mess of her hair and eased her back into the water to rinse it. Lena let her help her from the bath, standing there with a big towel held between out-stretched arms, which she enveloped her in as soon as she was standing on the mat. And then, perching on the edge of the tub, she let Kara brush her hair, slowly drying in the humid air of the bathroom before she was left alone for a brief moment as Kara went to fetch her some pyjamas.

 

            In the few moments she was alone, Lena reached for her jeans and worked the stained photograph out of the damp pocket, sandwiching it between the fluffy towel as she tried to dry it off. She looked up as Kara came back in with a pair of sweatpants and a faded t-shirt, holding them out to her and then busying herself putting Lena’s clothes in the laundry basket.

 

            Fumbling with the pocket of the sweatpants, Lena delicately shoved the photo in and then stiffly pulled the clothes on, the fabric smooth against her clean skin. She felt refreshed, but she didn’t even pay it any attention. She could’ve been missing a limb and Lena didn’t think she’d feel it at that moment. It was like a switch had been flipped inside her, leaving her mute and tearful, and it terrified her but she didn’t know how to stop.

 

            In a trance of hurt and muddled thoughts, Lena allowed herself to be taken to the kitchen table, where a cup of sweet herbal tea was set in front of her alongside a bowl of soup. She went through the motions, eating mechanically with the spoon pushed into her hand, draining the scalding tea, even as it burnt her tongue, and chewing the buttered bread that was pushed in front of her as her spoon clattered against the edge of the empty bowl. The whole time, she didn’t taste a thing, didn’t even comprehend what was going into her mouth, only that Kara was prompting her to eat, so she ate. It was like she was watching a puppet show, the strings to her body being controlled by someone else.

 

            As if in a trance, she allowed herself to be guided around the lacquered screen after she’d eaten, standing rooted to the spot in front of the empty grate of the fireplace as she watched Kara turn down the bedcovers. Lena slipped in between them and laid back, staring blankly up at the beams of the old ceiling as she wept quietly, not even noticing when Kara pulled the sheets up over her. 

 

            She wasn’t even aware of her leaving her side. The only thing Lena knew was that it was suddenly dark as Kara dimmed the lights, and she wished that the painful nothingness inside her could be switched off just as easily. But the only release for her was sleep.

 

            So she slept. After a sleepless night and an excruciatingly long day, she slept like the dead, so unaware of her surroundings that she didn’t even so much as stir at Kara’s tentative footsteps as she came to check on her. Dwelling in the relief of unconsciousness and absent dreams, Lena slept until mid-afternoon, waking with stiff muscles and an aching body.

 

            If anything, she only felt more tired. There was a languidness to her movements, a defeated tiredness as if she had completely given up. Whatever floodgates had opened up inside her yesterday, she’d exhausted herself from crying, and it just left her feeling drained and haggard. But still, she was able to sit up in bed, swinging her feet over the side and climbing to her feet without prompting.

 

            As if she’d been waiting anxiously for her to wake - which, knowing Kara, she might’ve been - quiet footsteps padded towards the partition at the sound of the mattress groaning, and as Lena turned, she watched Kara step around the end of it.

 

            In the light of a new day, Lena found herself embarrassed. Ashamed of the way she’d left, mortified by her breakdown yesterday, and humiliated by her childish helplessness the night before as Kara had been forced to take care of her. Lena didn’t even know where to begin as she stood there, red-faced and sheepish, unable to meet Kara’s eyes.

 

            “You must be hungry,” Kara eventually said.

 

            Finding no reason to object to the offered up reprieve from her embarrassment, Lena silently followed after her, padding barefoot across the old floorboards as she walked over to the kitchen table and sank down onto a chair. 

 

            Moments later, a strong cup of black coffee was set down in front of her, and Lena blinked back the bleary sluggishness of sleep as she took in the angle of sunlight coming through at the wrong angle, realising it was later than she thought as she glanced at the grandfather to check. It was after three o’clock, and Kara was upstairs, whisking eggs in a bowl with her back to Kara.

 

            “Shouldn’t you be downstairs?” Lena eventually said, warmth seeping into her fingers as she breathed in the rich smell of it, her voice hoarse from all of her crying. 

 

            “We’re closed today.”

 

            Lena knew it was because of her, and she was caught off guard by the fact that Kara had dropped everything to come and bring her home with her, losing a day’s business to take care of her while she’d slept the day away and had broken her heart on a few days ago. 

 

            “Kara?”

 

            “Mm.”

 

            “I’m sorry.”

 

            She watched as Kara bowed her head, sighing softly as she chopped a tomato with quick, hard movements, tossing it into the pan with the onion and diced bacon. Her shoulders were taut with tension, and Lena took a sip of her coffee as she waited patiently for Kara to say something. Lena hadn’t anticipated finding herself back her, cowed and meek, wanting to beg forgiveness and not knowing how, but she knew, with every fibre of her being, she had to seize that opportunity now, while she had the chance. There might never be another one, and she couldn’t bring herself to lose someone else.

 

            “I don’t know what happened,” Kara slowly said, picking her words carefully as she upended the mixture of eggs into the frying pan. Firmly setting the bowl down, she rounded on Lena and gave her a confused look, worry plain in her eyes. “But I- I need to know. I mean- you scared me yesterday, the way you shut down. And your boat … they said it sank. You just- you took off like that in a boat that  _ sunk. _ I need to know what’s wrong with- I’m worried about you.”

 

            Nodding, Lena took another sip of coffee and they lapsed into silence and Kara cooked an omelette for her, setting it down in front of her with a few slices of toast. It was more food than Lena could stomach at that moment, feeling sick with nerves and a gut-wrenching ache, so she shared it with Kara as they sat at the table together.

 

            Afterwards, Kara scrubbed the dishes, shooing Lena away when she tried to help, which left her making the bed. She’d noticed a pillow and folded blanket on the sofa and realised Kara had slept on it last night, unwilling to go as far as the room across the hallway in case Lena needed her. As she smoothed out the creases of the bedspread, Lena sank down onto the mattress and drew in a shuddering breath as she set her shoulders and grit her teeth. 

 

            She didn’t have to go looking for Kara; she found Lena as soon as she’d finished with the dishes, hovering a few feet away as she took in the tautness of Lena’s shoulders warring with the defeated slump as she held a folded photo in her hands. Glancing up quickly, looking at her with mournful green eyes, Lena reached out and patted the space beside her. Kara quietly obeyed, jostling the mattress as she lowered herself down beside her.

 

            “There are some things you should know,” Lena hesitantly started. “I told you some of it already. I told you I loved someone who didn’t love me back. Her name was Sam. And she picked someone else instead of me and it … broke my heart.”

 

            As she finished speaking, she unfolded the photograph, stained with salt and a little worse for wear from its journey, but the faces of the people in it were undeniable. There was Lena with Sam. She looked up at Kara, watching understanding dawn on her face as she stared at the photo and then jerked her head up to look at Lena with eyes wide with shock. 

 

            With a shuddering indrawn breath, drawing herself up to her full height, Lena exhaled slowly, feeling a weight lift off her as the sweet relief of the truth absolved her of some of her grief. It was a feeling she’d carried around with her for so long that she hadn’t even known how heavy it had become to live with the lie. But at that moment, as she saw the recognition in Kara’s eyes, understanding and familiarity written on her face, Lena couldn’t deny it any longer. And she spoke the words she’d refused to admit to herself all this time.

 

            “And then she died.”


	20. Chapter 20

_             To Sam, _

 

_             I think this is the last letter I’ll ever write to you. The rest are at the bottom of the English Channel by now; I never did send them. For so long I wondered whether I should just tear them up and throw them away, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I think I was clinging to the hope that it had all been a bad dream, and I’d hand them to you in Paris. We’d be sitting on the deck of my narrowboat, parked on the Seine, drinking coffee in the summertime and making amends for old wounds.  _

 

_             It was never anything more than a wishful fantasy though. And now, it’s all over. I’m not going to Paris, because you’re dead, and there’s nothing waiting for me there except disappointment. Now, it’s time for me to grieve. Properly. _

 

_             That doesn’t mean that I’ll forget about you though - how could I? - only that I don’t need the letters anymore, because there’s nothing more that I can say to you. But I’ll remember you, always. There’ll come a time when I’ll forget the things you said to me and the things you did, but I’ll never forget the way you made me feel, and I’ll always be fond of you for that. But it wasn’t really love. I think deep down I knew that, and deep down you led me on because you didn’t want to hurt me if you didn’t have to. But it’s okay, Sam. I love you for your kind heart, I love you for the family that you gave me when my real one fell apart, and I love you for forgiving me when I didn’t deserve your forgiveness at all.  _

 

_             Kara forgives me too, for the things I said when we parted ways. It wasn’t until I was too far gone that I was afraid I’d never see her again either. That we’d parted ways like you and me did. But I called her after the accident, and she came, and I fell apart because I love her and I miss you, and it’s been so hard. She made it easier though. I didn’t realise that I was falling in love with her while I was there, or that I was falling out of love with the idea of you too. Not until I left her behind in exchange for nothing ahead. _

 

_             She asked me to stay, to watch the ivy covering the cottage turn from green to red in autumn, and I turned her down. I turned her down for you, and I don’t know why. Perhaps I was in denial of the fact that you’re dead, but that’s the harsh truth. You’re dead and she’s alive. She said she knows that I’ll never love her the way that I loved you, and she’s right. But she was wrong too because I don’t think I was ever really in love with you. You just made me feel less alone, for a time, and I tricked myself into thinking that it meant I had a chance with you. I see now that I never really did. _

 

_             You know the feeling when warm sunlight touches your face? That’s Kara. I think I have a chance with her. She makes me feel safe and loved, and I didn’t realise it until she turned up at the docks, but I was starting to think of her as home. She makes me feel more loved than I even realised, and I’m starting to love her too. The right way. It’s strange, to know how it feels to truly be loved. I‘m almost me again, and she’s not you, but together, we’re something else. I wasn’t perfect for you, but I’m perfect for her, and it feels more right than anything I’ve ever known. _

 

_             Before I go, I need you to know that I’m not delusional, and I’m not crazy. I knew you were gone, and that nothing in the world could have brought you back. I just couldn’t bring myself to say goodbye. I hate how we left things. I hate that the last words I said to you were in anger when you were lying there in that hospital bed with a woman that wasn’t me by your side. I hate that I never got to say goodbye to you properly. But you’ve always loved Paris so I thought I’d say goodbye there, the way I wanted to. I guess I wanted to prolong the moment, so that I never had to get to the part where I let you go, for good.  _

 

_             But this is goodbye. The next time Kara goes back to Metropolis, I’m going to go with her. I’d like her to introduce me to Alex; I think we’re going to have a lot in common. I’ll visit your grave while I’m there, and I’ll leave this letter for you. Maybe it’ll reach you somehow, but if it doesn’t, I’ll remember the words I said for the both of us. But this is the last letter I’ll ever write to you because there are some things in life you have to let go of in order to live, and for me, that’s you. _

 

_             I love you, Sam. You held me together when there was no one else around, and I’ll love you forever for the love you showed me. Thank you. You deserved a long life full of happiness, and I hope you had even the smallest glimpse of that while you were here. I hope Alex made you laugh on the bad days, and I hope she held your hand as you took your last breath and made sure you weren’t alone. I hope she loved you better than I ever could’ve, but know that I’ll hold you with me forever. _

 

_             Love always, _

_             Lena x _

 

-

 

            “Oh,  _ Lena,”  _ Kara said, her voice thick with emotion as she stared at Lena with such overwhelming sadness that the urge to cry crept up on her again.

 

            But the pieces clicked into place for her. The heaviness of the grief she’d been lugging around with her all this time, the reluctance to treat it as it was and mourn for the woman she’d lost, the guilt for the way she and Sam had parted. All of it was bared and it left Lena feeling sore and exposed as she revealed the last piece of it to Kara, admitting it to herself in the process.

 

            And it wasn’t like Lena hadn’t  _ known. _ She hadn’t lost her mind - she’d just been avoiding the truth, and spinning a lie had seemed better. Wasn’t it better to tell a stranger she was going to Paris to win the person she loved back, rather than going to say goodbye because she was dead and Lena hadn’t had the chance to say it? That she’d been mad at Sam the last time they’d seen each other, and before Lena could make amends it was already too late? 

 

            A lie was a much easier story to tell, and in the process, she’d almost started to believe it herself, in the way that she so determinedly refused to accept Sam’s death that she could convince herself that she was still alive. Lena hadn’t seen a body, hadn’t gone to the funeral, hadn’t mourned or done anything except leave. In her mind, it was so easy to push it all aside and focus on the past.

 

            “Why didn’t you tell me?” Kara said, her voice softening as she gave her a pitying look of understanding. “If I’d know who you were, why you were here, I could’ve-”

 

            “I didn’t know,” Lena interrupted her, giving her a rueful smile as her eyes shone with misery, “I didn’t know who you were. I didn’t- I never came here looking for you. I was just … looking for a way to hold off on letting go, and then I got stuck here, and of  _ course _ she knew you. But I didn’t know. I didn’t know until I saw the photograph on top of the piano.”

 

            Kara reached out and took her hand in her own, squeezing Lena’s fingers reassuringly as she gave her a sad smile. “That’s why you-”

 

            “I didn’t know how to stay without telling you the truth, without making a mess of it all.”

 

            Wrapping her in her arms, Kara held her tightly, their knees knocking as Lena buried her head in her shoulder, feeling the tension bleed out of her as Kara stroked her hair, kissed her head, held her as she trembled. The ache in her chest was so strong that it stole the breath from her lungs.

 

            She could’ve stayed like that forever, cocooned in Kara’s strong arms, enveloped in gentle love and quiet understanding, given the time she needed to silently fall apart without any further explanation of her suffering. For too long, she’d carried it alone, and it felt  _ good _ to share it with someone else. Lena didn’t know how well Kara had known Sam, or for how long, but she knew her. She would’ve known the sound of her laugh, the soft kindness of her, the warmth of her voice and what her smile looked like. She probably would’ve known her love of travelling and bizarre obsession with swallows, that she had a daughter and grew up in Metropolis. Kara would’ve known that same person she did too, and in that was a comfort Lena hadn’t expected to find.

 

            When she finally pulled back, running a hand over her weary face as she sat slumped on the mattress, running her thumb over the salt-stained photograph, Lena was overcome with the urge to talk. She wanted to let it all spill out of her, all of her regrets, all of her mistakes with Sam. The way they’d parted, the way she’d been her family, the way Lena had fallen for her, so young and hopelessly in love with the elegance of the older woman, consumed by her naïve crush. But she didn’t even know where to start.

 

            As if sensing that, Kara put an arm around Lena’s waist, propping her chin on her shoulder as she looked down at the photo. “You know, I first met her here.”

 

            Turning her head in surprise, Lena’s eyebrows rose slightly and she felt an uncomfortable jolt in her stomach, yet couldn’t stop herself from smiling slightly. “Somehow, that makes sense. She always did love swallows.”

 

            Kara let out a quiet laugh, as Lena reached up to pull the gold necklace from beneath the neck of her t-shirt, fingering the charm with a thoughtful look on her face. Straightening up, Kara gave Lena a grim look and squeezed her knee.

 

            “She did. She was passing through, on her way to Paris with her daughter, and stopped by. It’s where she met my sister too; she was visiting at the time.”

 

            “Alex,” Lena said, no bitterness of malice to the name as she tested it out, shaking her head with disbelief. Kara had never mentioned her sister’s name before, but Lena still felt stupid for not figuring things out herself. A place called  _ The Swallow’s Nest _ would’ve been like a magnet for Sam. “I met her once, you know.”

 

            “You did?” Kara asked, surprise colouring her voice as she gave Lena a wide-eyed look, pale eyebrows rising before her expression softened into understanding. “Of course you did. She told me about it. It was at …”

 

            Lena bowed her head, dark hair spilling around her face, curtaining her off from Kara as her throat bobbed. Her voice was hoarse as she spoke. “At the hospital.”

 

            “You don’t have to-”

 

            “I do,” Lena thickly replied, drawing in a shuddering breath, “ _ God,  _ I just- I need to get it out. I need to be honest. With myself. I was  _ not _ good to her, in the end. I was selfish and- and-”

 

            “You were hurt.”

 

            Shaking her head, Lena laughed as tears sprang unbidden to her eyes. Crying was as unfamiliar to her as the feeling of being wanted, and she was full of bewilderment as they both settled in her heart. Newfound feelings that she didn’t even know she could feel. But it still didn’t absolve her of her guilt, to have Kara make excuses for her.

 

            “It doesn’t matter,” Lena tearfully said, drawing in a shaky breath as she wiped at her nose, sniffing and trying to keep the tears at bay. “I still did it. I was _ so mad _ at her. She told me she found someone else, and then she just- she left. She moved to National City, took Ruby and all of her things, and I didn’t- I didn’t see her again until she called to tell me she was sick.”

 

            Choking on a breath, Lena shook her head, before cupping her forehead in her palm, shoulders trembling. It was hard to think about, let alone to speak out loud. So much of her pain came from these memories, and it swallowed her up as she dove into them willingly for the first time ever. There was no sneaking up on her, no quiet door opening to let the thoughts in or Sam-shaped holes inside her catching her unawares as she fell into them. Lena waded through the memories of her own volition, and waves of agony swept over her as she was assaulted anew with every memory, the pain as fresh as the first time.

 

            “She didn’t even tell me when she first found out. I showed up to the hospital weeks later and it was like I was looking at a stranger. I knew it was bad the moment I walked in there. She’d lost so much weight and the lymph nodes on her throat were so  _ big _ .”

 

            She rubbed at her eyes, before straightening up and sighing softly.

 

            “And your sister was there with her, sitting by her bedside, and I remember feeling  _ so, so  _ angry. My place had been usurped, and I didn’t even get a phone call until she was already in the hospital. Sam told me then what was wrong with her. I’d never even heard of Castleman’s disease before, but I knew it didn’t sound good. I was mad. It should’ve been me there at the hospital with her. Me, the only person who’d been there when she’d given birth, who’d been there when she’d broken down with a newborn baby she didn’t know how to look after, who’d gone to every school play with her and helped her pick out Ruby’s first bike. She could’ve picked me when I’d asked her to, and I could’ve been the one feeding her chips of ice and sitting by her bedside, but it was your sister instead.”

 

            Lena swallowed a painful lump and blinked rapidly, her brow furrowed heavily over her troubled eyes as she let herself get lost in the memories. She rolled the pendant of the necklace between her fingers, shoulders hunched with a dejected air about her.

 

            “She tried to make me listen, but I just … wouldn’t. I knew I was going to lose her and I just- I was heartbroken. And I thought it would make it easier for me if I let myself be angry, like I could pretend it wasn’t going to break me if I was mad at her instead, like it would somehow make me stop loving her.” Lena let out a strangled laugh at her own naïvety, before continuing. “And she gave me her necklace and told me she loved me. And then I left without saying goodbye, and I never saw her again. She died two weeks later from organ failure and I-”

 

            She broke off, wiping at her cheek as a stray tear slid down it, before running a hand through her tousled hair and blowing all the air out of her lungs as she took in her shadow, cast by the sunlight spilling through the window behind her.

 

            “I never got to say goodbye to her. I never got to take back the things I said or tell her that I was sorry. She was just …  _ gone _ . And I couldn’t even feel anything; I didn’t even  _ cry. _ Her funeral was a few weeks later.”

 

            “I went to it,” Kara softly told her, before an apprehensive look clouded her face. “I didn’t see you there.”

 

            With a wry smile, Lena met her solemn eyes. “I didn’t go. I mean, I got dressed, I went through the motions, and I got in the car. But I had my passport in my pocket, as if some part of me had planned it all out. And I told the driver to take me to the airport instead. I didn’t even have a spare change of clothes, only the suit I was wearing and whatever was on me at the time. I flew straight to Scotland and went for a very long walk.”

 

            “And by some sick twist of fate, you ended up right here.”

 

            “I don’t think it’s sick,” Lena murmured, “I think there are some people that come into your life to teach you how to let go. I spent so long waiting for something that wasn’t going to happen, and I don’t know what was more painful; the shock of losing her or the ache of knowing that I’d never get to tell her how sorry I was. All I know is that you  _ did _ help me let go. I just- I didn’t see that at first, I didn’t realise I loved her the  _ wrong way _ . I spent so long holding onto what I thought I felt that I didn’t even realise how much of myself I’d lost in the process. I wasn’t myself for the longest time.”

 

            She glanced at the photograph for a moment, before folding it back in half and looking up at Kara. And somehow, it felt like closure. It felt right, like the first step of moving on as she quietly shut the door on the ghost of the woman she thought she’d loved. Whatever healing Lena had done over the past months had led her to this point, where she could see the two options in front of her and pick the one that she wanted for herself. The one with the chance for more, the hope of love and happiness and a quiet life spent appreciating the little things. 

 

            For all of Sam’s talk of swallows, Lena had found a home for herself at a place they flocked towards to nest, and it somehow felt right. It had been a long road, and now she was tired. With a soft exhale, Lena looked at Kara and felt her chest ache in the best way possible, with a yearning for a real person, sitting right beside her, solid and warm and understanding. And she didn’t know how to be deserving of those things, but she knew she wouldn’t let the opportunity slip past her again.

 

            “I’m … not what I thought I’d be without her,” Lena said, her heavy brows drawing together over troubled eyes as she tilted her head to the side, giving Kara a searching look, an undercurrent of awe and bewilderment on her face as she stared. “But I changed after I met you, that’s for sure.”

__

            Reaching out, Lena stroked the back of her knuckles against Kara’s cheek, watching her lips part as blue eyes stared at her with a tenderness that threatened to break Lena’s resolve. She smiled softly as Kara reached up and captured her hand in her own, pressing it more firmly against her cheek, and Lena saw forgiveness in her eyes before she’d even had the chance to apologise properly. It was just who Kara was as a person, and Lena was grateful for that. But she still owed her an apology, regardless of the fact.

 

            “Kara, I-”

 

            “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. I already know.”

 

            Shaking her head, Lena gave her a forlorn look, full of tenderness and remorse, “I do. I was … selfish. It doesn’t matter what the reason was; it doesn’t excuse it. I hurt you, and for that, I’m sorrier than you could ever know. And I don’t want to leave on bad terms and lose someone else.”

 

            “You don’t have to leave at all,” Kara murmured, a gentle plea in her eyes as she gave Lena a hopeful look.

 

            “I-”

 

            “Stay with me. Stay for autumn, stay forever,” Kara asked, her voice full of quiet passion and eager desperation, and she moved Lena’s hand from her face to cradle it against her heart. Lena could feel the steady beat of her heart through the fabric of her shirt, and she splayed her fingers over it, closing her eyes as she felt the pulse of life beneath her touch. 

 

            Eyelashes fluttered as Lena slowly opened her eyes, taking in the way sunlight bathed the side of Kara’s face in its golden light, and there was a strong tug in her heart. A want, a need for her. With a wary look in her eyes, Lena gazed at Kara, her reservations written on her face.

 

            “Half of my heart belongs to a ghost. Are you sure you want to be loved by someone who can only give you half of themselves?”

 

            Raising Lena’s hand to her lips, Kara delicately kissed her knuckles and gave her a small smile. “I’ll take every inch of you,” Kara murmured, “even the half of you that loves her, because it’s a part of who you are.”

 

            Lena’s expression softened at her words, and she felt a rush of love towards Kara. She imagined that one day, all the love she’d given to Sam would come back to her, and perhaps then she’d be able to love Kara the way she deserved to be loved, with more pieces of herself. But to know that Kara would take the parts of her that had been scarred by love and heal them with her own love, in turn, take the parts that belonged to someone else and hold them carefully in her hands, knowing what it meant to Lena … that was a kind of love that Lena didn’t know she needed. The acceptance of her, all of her, was a greater love than Lena had ever known, and her shoulders sagged slightly as she deflated, a kernel of warmth blossoming in her chest. 

 

            Letting go of Kara’s hand, Lena reached up and cupped her face in her palms, staring at her for a few moments, watching Kara’s lips part and her breathing hitch with anticipation. Her pupils dilated and her eyes flickered down towards Lena’s lips for a moment as they stood on the edge. It was a simple thing, after everything they’d been through, but it held more weight this time. 

 

            This wasn’t a coy kiss under the cover of twilight with the bolstered courage of two people who’d blurred the lines of their friendship, or the tearful desperation of one begging the other not to leave. This one had meaning, and Lena hesitated, making sure they were both certain. There wasn’t a shred of uncertainty within her, only the weak relief of her candour and slow-burning desire for Kara. 

 

            Slowly, she leant in, feeling Kara’s warm breath on her lips, and it set Lena’s body on fire as she pressed her lips firmly down on hers. It was unhurried, both of them savouring the soft touch of lips against their own, gently running their fingers through unbound hair or over cheekbones and jaws, marvelling at the saccharine pleasure of it. 

 

            They broke apart and Kara rested her forehead against Lena’s as she breathlessly laughed, reaching up to brush the pad of her thumb against Lena’s bitten lip. “Éire? I’d pick you first every time, given the option.”

 

            Kara’s nose bumped against hers, her lips ghosting a featherlight kiss across her lips again that left Lena wanted more, and Lena’s heart stumbled in her chest as she felt tears prick her eyes. Choked up, Lena leant into her touch as Kara cupped her cheek, almost nuzzling her as she felt the loosening of all the pent up tension inside her.

 

            “I didn’t know what home felt like until I found you.”

 

            “Does that mean you’ll stay?”

 

            “Yes,” Lena sighed faintly, “yes, I’ll stay. For autumn, for winter, for as long as you’ll have me.”


	21. Chapter 21

_ This guest of summer, _ _   
_ _ The temple-haunting martlet, does approve, _ _   
_ _ By his lov'd mansionry, that the heaven's breath _ _   
_ _ Smells wooingly here; no jutty, frieze, _ _   
_ _ Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird _ _   
_ _ Hath made its pendent bed, and procreant cradle: _ _   
_ _ Where they most breed and haunt, I have observ'd, _ _   
_ __ The air is delicate.

 

_ \- William Shakespeare, Macbeth (1605), Act I, scene 6, line 3. _

 

_ - _

 

            The first few days were hard. Lena felt like she was floundering, confused by her newfound relationship with Kara, scared by how right it felt, and just downright conflicted by the feelings within her. But it got easier after that. 

 

            By unspoken agreement, she slept in Kara’s bed, marvelling at how strange it was to fall asleep beside someone and wake up to them the next day, feeling safe beneath the pressure of Kara’s arm thrown across her waist as they slept, feeling shy as she stretched herself awake the next morning, pink-cheeked with bleary eyes and wild hair. She went through the motions; showering and dressing in Kara’s borrowed clothes for the time being, wearing frilly summer dresses and finding that she liked it, eating breakfast at the kitchen table or downstairs as Kara got a headstart on her day’s work, folding laundry and tidying up the apartment as the hours slipped by.

 

            They waited until the end of august to visit Metropolis, on the cusp of the ivy-covered cottage turning crimson and fiery orange, a stunning view that Kara knew Lena would sit outside to admire, bundled up in a coat as she watched the swallows leave for the year. They’d be back next spring, but it would feel like an ending and a new beginning at the same time. Kara could already smell of apples ripening late scented the air as the earthy smell of petrichor suffused everything, the sky a cloudy white more often than blue at that time of year as the full bloom of summer came to a close.

 

            It was still early for it yet, but Kara would still watch Lena from the kitchen windows as she scrubbed dishes, taking in the dark haired figure talking with Imra as she took a smoke break, or sitting by the river reading a book, the wind ruffling her hair and the pages as she basked in the lingering sunlight of late summer. A warmth would fill Kara’s chest as she watched her, an indescribable feeling of joy at the fact that she was still there. Some days, it felt like a dream, like it was too good to be true. 

 

            But Kara was resolute in her stubborn opinion that she deserved this. It was hard at times, watching Lena buckle under the weight of all her effort, when all she wanted to do was take the burden from her, but they struggled through it, until Lena could bear it a little easier with a strength Kara couldn’t help but admire. Her resilience was a quality that Kara couldn’t help but sadly applaud her for, as Lena struggled through the confusing grief of losing so many people that she’d loved. 

 

            Kara could understand heartbreak, the devastating blow of it that left you breathless, the crushing sadness and worthlessness the slammed into you, and she could help with that, because she knew it all too well. It had taken her months to move past the bitter betrayal of Mike’s infidelity, finding a camaraderie with Imra to help bolster her through it, and she still carried the scars of her mother leaving her as a child, dropping her off with Eliza and never coming back. But Kara had only ever known the loss of her father, the painful edges of the loss dulled with time and the fading of memories. Helping Lena mourn for a person they’d both known was something that was beyond Kara, but it didn’t stop her from trying.

 

            They took walks together, trampling fallen leaves underfoot as they entwined their fingers, and Lena pointed out flowers she recognised from the books she’d read, or birds flitting from branch to branch, while Kara smiled. She loved the way she talked, the quiet confidence in Lena’s voice, the way she gestured and spoke with her eyebrows. There was an intelligence to her that Kara admired, a knack for noticing things that other people would miss, and her eyes were so watchful, so beautiful in the sunshine and even more so when they creased with a smile.

 

            They were more frequent these days, as was her laughter, and it never failed to make the tense worry bleed out of Kara’s shoulders when she heard the sound of it, feeling as if everything would be okay as long as they could keep on laughing. And they laughed a lot. They laughed as Kara spun Lena around to the music coming from the old gramophone that had been fixed, their steps clumsy and off-key, when Lena badly played the piano for her, trying to recall childhood lessons long since forgotten, or when she’d allow Kara to drag her up to the mic on karaoke night after a few drinks. She fell in love with the lighter sides of Lena that she had never seen before, her heart bursting with happiness at each new discovery she uncovered.

 

            But she loved her before all of that. Kara had loved her for the stubborn way she refused to give in. The way she had to fix every problem, whether it be a squeaky hinge, a broken fence or the clocks she gathered like pitiful strays. There was a softness to her, beneath all the sadness and cool haughtiness, and Kara had marvelled at the slow unveiling of those parts. The way Lena picked flowers for her because she’d thought Kara would like them, how she did their laundry and folded their clothes with gentle precision, the burning passion in her eyes when she saw an old antique, as if she was itching to fix it back up, to scramble on her knees to find the maker’s mark. That fire inside her sparked an alarming change, as if her whole being lit up with a purpose, breaking out of whatever solemness dwelled inside her.

 

            To see the parts of Lena that she kept locked away, it was hard not to fall for her. It was like a well-kept secret reserved just for Kara. Glimpses of her old self, perhaps, or a new version trying to break through the walls she erected around herself. Kara watched Lena coax it out of herself slowly, but surely, and she couldn’t help the warmth in her chest whenever their hands brushed, whenever Lena revealed something personal about herself, opening up in the most vulnerable way as she started to trust Kara. It felt like they’d never been strangers, their relationship so oddly intimate without even being aware of  _ why. _

 

            Kara was enamoured by her long before she’d ever acted on those feelings. Until her loneliness had boiled to a point where she couldn’t help but want to be around Lena all the time, extending invitations with hesitation, wondering if today would be the day Lena left. She couldn’t even describe how badly she didn’t want her to go, that the mere thought of it would make her chest ache with sadness because she’d gotten used to laying the table for two and having someone to drink coffee with before bed. But Lena had always said yes. Always had time to walk with Kara, to hover in the kitchen and wash the dishes, never tiring of eating dinner with her, even though the option to eat alone was always there. 

 

            They fell into a routine without even realising it, and that routine carried on now. Except Kara got to kiss her goodnight and feel the warmth of Lena pressed up against her back. She got to wake up beside her or to a freshly brewed cup of coffee, made just the way she liked it as Lena softly kissed her awake. There was a tenderness to their love that set her soul on fire, a sweetness to it that she’d never known, as if they were new to each other, slowly exploring different parts of each other they hadn’t discovered before. 

 

            Each day held a new surprise, welcomed with unreserved acceptance, and Kara couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so happy. It was like she walked around in a daze, rose-tinted glasses on as she let the newfound happiness radiate from her, wanting to shout it for the world to hear. She could see it in Lena too, albeit more subdued, but there was a lightness to her steps and she didn’t walk with a defeated slump to her shoulders anymore. She wore Kara’s sundresses and laughed unabashedly, a wry smile never far from her lips, a witty remark always on her tongue and a book in hand. It was like she’d been waiting for summer to bloom into the best version of herself, and the hint of autumn had only fueled it further.

 

            And so it seemed like the right decision to go to Metropolis. Lena had asked her shortly after she’d decided to stay, wanting to meet Alex, to see Ruby again and visit Sam’s grave. So they waited until August was over, when there was a bite to the wind and they’d harvested the second load of honey, this load dark and sweet, and turned a batch of ripe apples into cloudy cider. Kara left strict instructions for Imra and Gayle, who accepted the lecture goodnaturedly, already knowing everything Kara told them from the other times she’d left them in charge.

 

            Lena had plucked up the courage to call her mother a few weeks before, listening to the brusque voice, full of irritation and an undercurrent of relief. It hadn’t been fun to tell her that she wasn’t coming back permanently, only to visit, but it had felt like a small weight off her shoulders to tell her, to let Lillian know where she was, that she was safe and okay and coming back to see her. Her mother put Ruby on the phone at Lena’s insistence, and the animated happiness in her niece’s voice made her heart swell with love for her. 

 

            Lena had missed her while she’d been away, unable to bring herself to stay in Metropolis and see Sam’s eyes on the little girl’s face. She’d promised Lex she’d always look after her, and she would, but it had been best for them both for Lena to have left. She hadn’t seen her in six months before Sam died, with Ruby in National City as Sam up and relocated them to be with Alex, and Lena had been in no capacity to become her guardian afterwards. The responsibility had fallen to Lillian, and as Lena listened to Ruby talk, she felt overcome with emotions. She sounded happy, like she was coming to terms with her mother’s death and being looked after by her grandmother. 

 

            Lena couldn’t help but smile softly as Ruby chatted away about school and soccer and Alex. Alex who had relocated to Metropolis to take care of Sam’s daughter for her, who took her out for ice cream on the weekend and went to every soccer match. A rush of gratitude washed over Lena for this woman she barely knew, who she’d been so scornful and jealous of, their one meeting boiling down to Lena being too angry to even pay her any attention. Yet all she felt for Alex now was deep gratitude, for being there for Ruby, for being the person at Sam’s side when she passed. She just wanted to thank her.

 

            They travelled light with a carry on suitcase each, and Lena insisted on booking them both First-Class tickets, the wide seats luxurious and comfortable as they drank champagne. Kara could see the tension in Lena’s shoulders, feel the nervousness radiating off her in waves, and she held her hand all through take-off, giving it reassuring squeezes as Lena looked at her and gingerly smiled.

 

            They napped for a while, the gentle turbulence and droning of engines lulling them to sleep, Lena’s head on her shoulder and Kara’s head resting on top, a blanket spread across their knees. Lena woke before her, and when Kara finally jerked awake, she found herself being cradled against Lena’s shoulder, the blanket drawn up to her chin and an arm wrapped around her. She smiled as she stretched herself awake, taking in the whisky that Lena was nursing and the empty cups stacked in front of her. Apparently she’d been awake for a while.

 

            It was a long flight, and they picked at their food, spoke occasionally and slept a little bit more, but it was a relief when they landed. Stiff, tired and hungry, they gathered their little cases and stepped off the plane at Metropolis, where a driver was waiting to pick them up. Kara was surprised by the dismissive attitude Lena had of her lifestyle, greeting the driver with the nonchalance of someone who was used to being chauffeured around in towncars and flying First-Class. It was something of a novelty for Kara though, and she buckled herself into the leather seat with wide-eyed appreciation.

 

            They went straight to Lena’s home on the Luthor estate, and Kara’s stomach twisted with nerves as she squeezed Lena’s hand tightly, knowing that it was worse for her. It was plainly written in the sharp lines of her face, the taut shoulders and the way her foot tapped anxiously. And Kara knew there was no words that she could say that would comfort Lena, nothing she could do to reassure her that it would all be okay, because for all she knew, Lena might fall apart completely. But she’d be there with her. She’d hold her hand and rub her back and make sure that someone was there to help pick up the pieces and guide her through it if she could.

 

            But still, as they neared the gates of the sprawling estate, a tree-lined driveway leading up to the glimpse of old stone Kara could see beyond, she felt the breath catch in her throat. Alex would be there - Kara had phoned ahead to arrange it at Lena’s request - and there was a strange feeling of anticipation within Kara at the thought of them meeting. Well, meeting again. But properly this time, because it wasn’t fair to lump Lena’s grief in with who she was as a person; Kara knew that better than anyone. She actually thought Alex would like her a lot.

 

            Gravel crunched beneath the wheels of the car as they came to a stop outside the house, steps leading up to the wide double doors, made of old wood with old-fashioned knockers made from wrought-iron. The whole place seemed old, and forbidding in an oddly comforting way, as if the old bones of the house were steeped with countless memories but a safe harbour for lost things to be fixed up. It was exactly the kind of place she imagined Lena would’ve grown up inside, fixing old clocks in dusty rooms that had stood for a hundred years or more.

 

            The driver opened Lena’s door and Kara let herself out, rounding to the trunk as the driver beat her there to fetch their bags. Kara relieved him of them and thanked him as Lena slipped him a tip and then drew in a deep breath, exhaling sharply as she squared her shoulders. Kara lingered behind her, both bags in hand, and waited, watching her anxiously as the car drove away.

 

            “If you don’t want to, we can just- we can hole up in a hotel for a few days. Order room service and watch movies. I’ll call the car back right now,” Kara said after a few moments.

 

            Glancing back over her shoulder, Lena gave her a small smile, “I think … this is something I have to do. The last step to take.”

 

            “Okay.”

 

            They hovered outside for a few more minutes though, before Lena sighed again and took a step towards the house. Kara trailed after her, crunching gravel beneath her shoes as she walked towards the steps, climbing them to stand behind Lena’s shoulder as she reached out for one of the knockers, banging metal against metal in a foreboding way. 

 

            It was a few minutes before one of the doors was jerked open and Lena went stumbling backwards, steadied by Kara hurriedly reaching out to stop her from sprawling down the stone steps. Wrapped around her waist was a pair of arms belonging a little girl that Kara had met a few times before, a head burying itself in Lena’s shoulder as she blinked in surprise, caught off guard by the sudden bombardment.

 

            “Aunt Lena!”

 

            As Kara watched, Lena’s shoulders went slack and the air rushed out of her lungs, expression softening as she reached up and wrapped her arms around Ruby. Closing her eyes, she held her for a moment, before a small smile spread across her face.

 

            “Hi.”

 

            “I’ve missed you!”

 

            Ruby pulled back to beam at her, and Kara could see the surprise on Lena’s face as she took in how tall the girl had grown, at the unbridled joy on her face, before her face creased into a smile and Lena reached out to squeeze her arm. “I’ve missed you too.”

 

            “Kara!”

 

            Eyebrows rising as Ruby’s attention shifted to her, Kara beamed widely at her, setting the cases down and holding her arms wide open for a hug. She enveloped Ruby in her embrace, rocking her slightly as an old fondness for her flared up. Kara remembered days spent entertaining Ruby on her river, while Sam and Alex flirted inside the teahouse, of showing her the chickens pecking around her yard and drawing at the kitchen table after she’d cooked dinner for the four of them. She hadn’t seen her since Sam’s funeral, and found herself glad that it was under better circumstances this time, that she could see the childish spark of happiness in her hazel eyes again, ecstatic that her aunt was home.

 

            The hug ending, Kara picked their bags up again and the three of them were bundled into the large foyer, the door shutting heavily behind them as Kara’s eyes immediately found her sister. Alex was hovering just inside with an older woman who could only be Lillian, and Kara gave her sister a bright smile, full of exhaustion and happiness. No matter how long it was between visits, she always missed Alex so keenly. It was a painful reminder of why they were there, of the kind of loss Lena had experienced, and her smile turned sad as she set their bags down on the tiled floor.

 

            Ruby moved back over to her grandmother’s side, pulling on her arm, and Lillian gave her a thin smile, before allowing herself to be pulled towards her daughter. There was a wariness in Lena’s face, before she slumped and stepped forward, meeting Lillian halfway as she was wrapped in a hug. It was brief, and spoke of awkwardness between them that had always been there from what Kara had gathered, but there was an undeniable love there too, and Lena gave her a wan smile.

 

            “Hi, mom.”

 

            “It’s good to have you home,” Lillian said with a nod, before hesitating, a stern look on her face, “how’ve you been, Lena?”

 

            Drawing in a shuddering breath, bottom lip trembling slightly, Lena swallowed thickly and nodded. “I’m okay,” she hoarsely said, before turning to Kara and gesturing to her. “This is Kara.”

 

            Stepping forward, Kara extended a hand and briefly shook Lillian’s, giving her a warm smile as she was scrutinised and given a polite nod in turn. “It’s nice to meet you.”

 

            “Likewise. Can I offer anyone a drink?”

 

            “I think we’re going to head out back,” Lena quietly said, giving Lillian a grave look.

 

            “Right. We’ll have coffee when you come back in. There are flowers in the kitchen for you.”

 

            Lena nodded, and Lillian turned to leave, waving Ruby to follow after her and finish off her homework as the young girl grumbled, dragging her feet as she slowly left too. Kara bit back a smile, before she looked at Lena, whose head was ducked down as she chewed on her bottom lip, awkward under Alex’s uneasy appraisal of her. The last time they’d met hadn’t been under good circumstances, and Kara was unsure whether it would’ve been better for her to leave them alone for a moment or play mediator.

 

            But then Lena raised her head, squaring her shoulders and crossed the space between her and Alex, hand already extended. “Alex. It’s nice to meet you. Again.”

 

            Kara felt a lump rise in her throat as she watched her sister bat Lena’s hand aside and envelope her in a tight hug, holding her so close that Lena was taken aback, her hands splayed helplessly for a moment before they wrapped around Alex and held her just as tightly. The way that Lena slumped in her arms was visible, their faces buried in each other’s shoulders as they shared a pain that Kara would never be able to understand, never  _ hoped _ to, and she felt the burning feeling of tears behind her eyes as she watched.

 

            It was such a heartfelt moment, full of pure heartbreak, of understanding and pain, and she felt like she was intruding, but couldn’t bring herself to leave. Of  _ course _ there was someone who could understand her pain, someone who could help her carry the burden of her grief and absolve her of her guilt. She’d been suffering in her own way too, with Kara over the phone, trying her best. But Kara realised that Alex had needed this as much as Lena, and her throat closed up as she watched them break down, just a little, shoulders shaking with quiet, suppressed sobs.

 

            “Thank you,” Lena mumbled, her voice cracking, “thank you for looking after her. Both of them. I just-  _ thank you.” _

 

            “She loved you so much,” Alex said, pulling back and gripping Lena’s shoulders as she gave her a tearful look of earnest. Lena reached up to hold onto her arms, a doleful look on her face as she drew in a shuddering breath. “I hope you know that she did. I know that the two of you … I know you didn’t part ways- she cared about you very deeply, in a way that I don’t think she cared about anyone else.”

 

            Wiping at her eyes before the tears could spill over, Kara sniffled and blinked rapidly, overcome with emotions. She tipped her head back, blowing the air out of her lungs, and when she lowered her chin, she found two tearful pairs of eyes looking at her with amusement.

 

            “What’re  _ you _ crying for,” Alex snorted, rolling her eyes as she let out a shaky laugh, wiping her own eyes and then striding towards her sister with her arms open.

 

            Kara wrapped her in a gentle embrace, rocking her slightly as she laughed, before pulling back and giving her sister a kiss on the cheek. “I’ve missed you.”

 

            “Yeah, you too. Shall we, uh, shall we go outside?”

 

            Alex glanced at Lena at the last part, an expectant look on her face, and Lena nodded, running a hand through her hair. “Yeah, um, I’ll meet you out there.”

 

            Nodding, Alex took Kara by the arm, and Kara gave Lena a questioning look, before Lena nodded again, jerking her chin towards the hallway Alex was already towing her sister towards. With a grim smile, Kara turned and fell into step beside Alex, glancing around at the old wood and marble, the high ceilings with crown moulding, old paintings and vases and statues. The air smelled of wood and polish and stone, and reminded her of her teahouse, just on a grander level.

 

            They slipped down a hallway that led to a mud room, a wide basin set along one wall while a rack held a few pairs of muddy shoes that could only be for Ruby and Lillian. Alex let them outside, the cold air of Metropolis’ early autumn biting their cheeks, and Kara’s eyes widened at the size of the garden. Acres sprawled out from where they stood, clumps of trees dotting the land, cultivated flower beds wilting from the early frosts and old statues slowly being reclaimed by lichen. There was a fountain and outdoor furniture covered with sheets, the glimpse of a groundskeepers house covered with red ivy, and Alex set off in the opposite direction, familiarly at ease at Lena’s home, which was a surprising realisation for Kara.

 

            “You come here often?”

 

            “Yeah. Lillian lets me take Ruby out on weekends. And lets me visit the grave whenever I want. She’s not so bad. Just a bit lonely, I think. I think she’s glad for the help too, you know? It can’t be easy raising another kid when your own are already grown up.”

 

            Kara gently bit her lip as she buried her hands in her pockets, strolling along in stride with Alex as she hesitated. “Why didn’t she just let you keep her in National City then?”

 

            Shrugging, Alex grimaced, “I guess she didn’t trust her granddaughter with a woman who’d only known her for eight months or so. I mean, she trusts me a lot more  _ now.  _ It’s been over a year since we met at yours, but I guess it’ll just make things more complicated for Ruby. Moving her from place to place, you know? I think Sam would’ve wanted stability for her, and Lillian can give her the best of everything, so … I don’t mind it here. Work’s good. I’m getting out more.”

 

            Reaching out, she gave Alex’s arm a gentle squeeze. “That’s good.”

 

            “What about Lena? How’s she been handling it.”

 

            Kara let out a short laugh, “she’s getting better too. I think … me knowing has helped. She talks about her more, and not just as this stranger I never knew, but about things she knows I’ll know. It’s nice to see her open up; I think it helps her more than pretending that it didn’t happen, you know?”

 

            “She seems … different from the last time I met her,” Alex softly said, her voice laced with sadness, “less angry.”

 

            “I imagine she was in shock when you met.”

 

            “I know. I just- I always wondered what happened to her. I met her once, and she was … this whirlwind of anger and desperation, and like, I was  _ right _ there as she asked Sam to pick her over me. It was like she was already in pieces, and she probably  _ was, _ but then she just left. And I didn’t see her at the- at the funeral. Lillian had no idea where she was, was worried but brushed it off as something that she shouldn’t be  _ that  _ worried about, and I guess I just wondered where she went and what she was doing. Sam used to talk about her a lot; I almost felt as if I knew her, worried about her too. As … strange as it all is, I’m glad she found you.”

 

            With a small smile, Kara threw an arm around her sister as they walked. “Yeah,” she sighed heavily, “me too. I knew she was going through a lot, but … she helped me too, and she didn’t even know it. I don’t feel so alone anymore.”

 

            Alex gently bumped her as she gave her a small smile, “then I’m glad you have her too.”

 

            “I’m so glad you’re going to get to know her better,” Kara said, a warmth spreading through her chest as she gave Alex a tender look, “she’s smart and funny, and she’s so thoughtful and kind in a way you wouldn’t expect. I think you’ll like her.”

 

            “I already do,” Alex murmured, “she was there for Sam when no one else was. I’ll always be grateful to her for that, even though I didn’t know Sam at the time.”

 

            Kara gave her a small smile and they walked the rest of the way in silence, making their way to the small graveyard set at the fringes of the western side of the estate, headstones of generations of Luthor’s crowding the plot of land enclosed with a low wrought iron fence and a small mausoleum in the centre, made from white marble and standing cold and ominous. 

 

            Alex led her to a small plot not too far inside, where a bunch of wilting roses lay on the crop of grass that had grown over the dirt that had covered it the last time Kara had been there. It was no less sad being there this time, without the crowd of mourners, but it was somewhat more bearable. They stood in front of the marble headstone, heads bowed as the read the inscription in silence.

 

            It was a long while before they were disturbed by the gentle rustle of trampled leaves, and Kara jerked her head up, turning to look at Lena hovering beyond the fence, a bunch of flowers in her hand from the kitchen and her face ghostly white as she stared at the spot they stood at with wide eyes.

 

            Kara didn’t try and coax her forward, knowing that she needed a moment to pull herself together, and she reached out to squeeze Alex’s hand in a silent warning too. Long minutes passed before she heard the slow, wary footsteps of Lena approaching, and Kara made space for her in between her and Alex, sandwiching her in on both sides as they stood in front of the grave.

 

            The bouquet in Lena’s hands dipped as her arm fell listlessly to her side, bottom lip trembling as she held back tears, and Kara hesitantly reached up to give her shoulder a gentle squeeze. She watched Lena’s throat bob as she swallowed thickly.

 

            “Did she ever tell you about the time she broke her ankle ice-skating?” Lena eventually blurted out, her voice scratchy and low.

 

            Alex let out a quiet chuckle, sniffing as she folded her arms over her chest, “yeah, she did. Ruby’s much better at it.”

 

            “She’s taking ice-skating lessons?”

 

            “Started about two months ago.”

 

            Lena nodded, lips pressed flat together in a grimace, her eyes still trained on the headstone as they stood there, three in a row, Kara feeling like she was intruding again. They had memories that she wasn’t a part of, and she didn’t begrudge them the time to reflect on them and grieve, she only wanted to be there for support, in case they needed it.

 

            “What about when she got food poisoning in Morocco?” Alex asked after a few moments.

 

            With a snort of laughter, Lena wiped at her cheek, shaking her head as a half-hearted smile split her face. “Oh yeah. Honestly, the number of phone calls I got about her and her travels. Did she tell you about when she got mugged in Thailand?”

 

            Alex nodded before Lena even finished speaking, laughter already falling from her lips. “I went to Paris with her after we first met. She lost her suitcase, Ruby’s passport  _ and _ managed to get us lost in the middle of the sixth arrondissement without a word of French between us, all in one day.”

 

            “She was like that,” Lena softly laughed, “she never really planned things out or ahead. She just wanted the next adventure.”

 

            “She talked about you a lot, you know.”

 

            “I wish- I wish I hadn’t been so  _ angry _ . I wish I hadn’t left like I did.”

 

            Lena drew in a shuddering breath as she shook her head, a tautness to her face at the pain of it all, and Kara brushed the back of her hand against Lena’s, a gentle reassurance as she listened to their exchange in silence.

 

            “She forgave you, you know.”

 

            “You can’t know-”

 

            “I do,” Alex firmly said, turning to look at Lena with earnest brown eyes, a sad warmth to them that made Kara’s throat close up. She loved her sister fiercely in that moment, for giving Lena the comfort that she needed, absolving her of the guilt Kara knew had plagued her all this time. “I do, because she- she told me to tell you- she knew how you’d beat yourself up about it, but she- she wanted you to know it’s  _ okay. _ That she didn’t blame you. All she wanted was … she wanted me to tell you that she hoped you could let go and find your own adventure.”

 

            A small sob fell from Lena’s lips as she finally broke, her shoulders shaking as she stood there between the two of them, and Kara didn’t know whether to try and comfort her or just let her be. Sometimes, there was nothing worse than being touched when you were trying so hard to hold it together. Lena’s resolve was only so strong.

 

            “I want to say goodbye,” Lena said, her breath hitching and voice cracking, “I can let go now. I’m ready. I just- I need to say goodbye first.”

 

            Kara nodded, her eyes swimming with tears at the pain in Lena’s voice. Reaching out to softly squeeze her hand, she jerked her head at Alex, who was trying to keep her own tears at bay. “We’ll give you a moment.”

 

            “Wait!” Lena blurted out, reaching out to stop Kara before she walked off.

 

            Her hand went inside her coat and she withdrew two identical envelopes, eyes scanning the fronts of them before she held one out to Kara with her name written on it. The other way blank, but Kara knew who it was for. With a loving look in her eyes, she reached out and pressed her cold hand to Lena’s cheek for a moment, watching her eyelids flutter shut before she pulled her hands back.

 

            “We’ll wait over there for you.”

 

            Withdrawing from the graveyard, Kara and Alex lingered in the shade of a gnarled elm tree, taking in the lone figure standing before the headstone, before Lena dropped to her knees and moved the old flowers aside in favour of the new ones. Kara’s stomach lurched as she watched her separate the bouquet and set half on a headstone beside Sam’s, realising with a sinking feeling that it was Lex’s grave, right beside her. 

 

            They hadn’t even been in love, but they were buried side by side for their daughter to visit, and Kara’s chest ached. Sam hadn’t had any other family except Alex, and only at the end. For years, this place had been her home. She hadn’t realised how difficult it must be for Lena to stay within the walls of the place full of memories of all the people she’d lost and loved. She was braver than Kara gave her credit for, and Kara thought she was already full of courage.

 

            “Are you going to open it?” Alex asked, nodding at the letter Kara held.

 

            Pausing for a moment, Kara nodded, before perching on a thick root that jutted out of the earth and tearing open the envelope. Her heart was in her throat as she read over the words, a rush of love sweeping through her as she drank them in, and she realised she was struggling not to cry by the end of it. Blinking rapidly, she let out an embarrassed laugh and stuffed the letter back into the envelope, before letting Alex pull her back to her feet.

 

            “She loves you?”

 

            “Yeah,” Kara murmured, “yeah, she does.”

 

            Alex gave her arm a gentle push, “don’t let go of her.”

 

            “I don’t plan on it.”

 

            With a quick nod, her sister turned her dark eyes back to the figure kneeling in front of the graves and they stood in silence, watching and waiting, giving Lena the time she needed. Eventually, she climbed to her feet against, resting her hands on top of each headstone and bowed her head for a moment, almost as if in prayer, before she turned and walked back towards the waiting duo, hands in her pockets and shoulders hunched forward.

 

            As she stepped out of the cemetery, she paused, a dozen feet from Kara, and tipped her head back as her shoulders slumped. And then Lena let out a light laugh, spreading her arms slightly as she splayed her fingers, reveling in whatever she was feeling. And Alex let out a quiet laugh too, amusement softening her expression, and Kara couldn’t stifle the overwhelming feeling of love in her chest as she watched Lena let go. It was as if she could see it, see the guilt seeping out of her body, straightening her up on the way as a burden was lifted from her shoulders.

 

            Lena had said her goodbye’s, finally, and as she walked towards Kara, eyes shining bright with tears - happiness and sadness warring within her - it was like she was seeing her for the first time. It was like the last part had clicked into place and she was seeing Lena in full colour, and she met her halfway, wrapping her in her arms and holding her close as they swayed for a moment.

 

            “Are you okay?”

 

            With a heavy sigh and a wry look, Lena held her hands in her own and gave her a helpless shrug, her eyes creasing at the corners with amusement, and she let out a burst of childish laughter, sweeter than birdsong and warmer than the sun on her face, and Kara felt breathless as she looked at her with adoration and awe.

 

            “I feel like  _ me _ again.”


	22. Chapter 22

_             Kara, _

 

_             For too long now, I’ve written letters to the ghost of a person who, it turns out, I never really loved. Not the way I love you. I guess I was just carrying around the baggage that came with losing her, the memories of a person that was gone weighing heavily on my shoulders. I still carry her with me, of course, in my heart and my mind, and I think I’ll carry her with me straight through to the very end. I think you know all about that, and I expect that you carry people around with you too, in those places of yourself. Such is the power of memory and loss. _

 

_             But there’s something to be said for the discovery of new people and the formation of fresh memories because I don’t see her anymore when I close my eyes, and I don’t hear her laughter in quiet moments. They belong to you now, as does my heart. I know it hasn’t been easy, for either of us, and I don’t think I can articulate properly just how grateful I am to you. I know it can’t be easy to love someone who’s still partly in love with a dead woman, but you never make me feel like I’m a burden because of it. _

 

_             Instead, you’ve showered me with patience and love and all that kindness you’re so sure I don’t have to be deserving of, and you’ve taken hold in my heart. All of it. I know I said I could only give you half of myself, could only love you with half of my heart, but you’ve taken root and bloomed everywhere inside it. How could you not? I think I loved you long before I first realised it, long before I started to heal myself.  _

 

_             You taught me how to let go, in more ways than one, and it has been a weight off my shoulders to be able to admit the simple truth to myself; I have fallen for you in the simplest way, uncomplicated and shamelessly. My guilt is not reserved for my love for you. You’ve forgiven me for the broken parts of myself that hurt you out of spite and fear, and you’ve loved me for all the grief and sadness inside me, and how could I ever feel guilty about the innocence of such beautiful love you’ve brought to my life? It feels more right than anything else I’ve ever known. _

 

_             There are things I don’t quite know how to say to you, and I’m having trouble writing them too, but I realised that I wrote them all to Sam. See, I was writing to her to tell her about how I was healing, becoming myself again while I was stuck here, but I found that I wasn’t myself. I didn’t even know what that was. I wasn’t me, and you weren’t her, but you brought out the best in me, and I’ve come to an agreement with myself since then. I don’t love myself, but I like the person I am when I’m around you, and I’m proud of how far I’ve come. And in part, that’s because of you. _

 

_             In hindsight, I can see where I fell for you, but I didn’t even know it at the time. All I knew was that I wanted to tell Sam about you, wanted to fill letters with the things we said and did together, the places we went and how you looked when you were deep in thought. For a long while now, you’ve plagued my every thought, and I can’t tell you how many times I wanted to cross the hall and knock on your door, just to spend a little bit more time with you. Truthfully, I never wanted to leave; I was just scared. It seems silly to say it, but I was. I was frightened of the way you understood me, without me even having to explain my sadness, I was frightened of the way you felt like sunshine on my face, so pure and warm, and of how you laughed like Sam, with so much joy that I thought that it could only end with me getting hurt again. _

 

_             But you were right, and of course we’ll hurt each other, because love is bruised egos and wounded pride. But I’ll be sticking around a lot longer than autumn, I think, to kiss your hurts better and apologise for my mistakes. I know there’s still a lot of growing for me to do, but I want you to know that I’m not going anywhere, because I know what it is to have a home and to be loved, and all I hope is that I can make you feel the same way. When we met, I was at the lowest point in my life, but I’ve been finding my footing again, finding new pieces to help replace the parts that were missing, and I’m okay now. It feels like a weight off me to be able to say that I’m happy, and I’m happy with you.  _

 

_             One day, I’m going to be at the highest point in my life, and I plan on being right beside you when it happens because I’ve learnt how important it is to cherish every moment, even the small ones. And I do. I appreciate the small pleasures in life, like waking up beside you and feeling you squeeze my hand when we walk together, of how it feels to sit on the sofa with you and read in silence and how you drink every drop of your coffee because you say it tastes better when I make it. I hope you feel those small moments as keenly as I do, and know they mean more to me than all the big moments, because it’s the little ones that make a lifetime.  _

 

_             For now, I’m happy to take it step by step, discovering new things about you every day and letting myself fall deeper in love with you. There’s no greater feeling in the world. I know I might not always be able to say it in as many words, but I hope you know I do love you. It’s been the greatest surprise of my life, and for all my frustration, I’ll be eternally grateful to my shitty boat and that tiny arch. I’m not sure I would’ve taken the time to yell at you and stop for tea if it wasn’t for that boat. Perhaps there’s something to be said for the help of an American, because as hard as I tried, I couldn’t stay away from you. _

 

_             Yours always, _

_             Éire x _

 

_ - _

 

            Things were different when they came back from Metropolis, but in a way, it was like she hadn’t even left at all, not even for a moment. Lena still went for her walks, hands brushing through long grass, pollen swirling through shafts of sunlight as she breathed in the comforting familiar smell of pine trees and the flowers and the dampness of the river. For the first time in a while, Lena felt like she was awake.

 

            It was like some new part of her had been roused. She found herself painfully shy when it came to the unfamiliar yearning of wanting to be with Kara, blinking owlishly in surprise at the gentle pecks placed on her lips as Kara rushed out of her apartment to help out with the lunch rush, sharing coy smiles with Kara as their fingers lingered on hands and waists and arms, brushing slowly against skin as they looked at each other with such intensity and wonder. 

 

            It was a budding romance, unfamiliar to them both in the way that it was pure and sweet and  _ good. _ It felt real and right, and it was something that neither of them had experienced before. In more than one way, this was all new to Kara too. She’d been hurt before, in a different way, and she was as fascinated as much as Lena at how something as small as reaching out to caress a bare shoulder could be so loving, so intimate. Their walls came down, and with the vulnerability came so much gentleness, as if knowing to be careful with the fragile parts of each other. 

 

            Lena had been hurt before and sworn to never give someone else the chance to hurt her again. She’d let herself be vulnerable with Sam, building a version of her that had never existed, and stumbled unknowingly into a trap of her own design and been bitten because of it. For months since then, she’d walked around with walls so high that sunlight couldn’t shine on the darkness that lay behind it, armed to the teeth and wary as a part of her died along the way, starved of the love it craved so badly. Yet she’d still loved Sam, and it had hurt to be forced to live a life without her, heartbreak driving Lena straight into the arms of the parts of herself that she hated, until it was too late and Sam was gone. 

 

            Until one day, all those months ago, she’d started the journey of stripping herself of that armour, letting sunlight in through the cracks around her, and she’d met Kara and felt like she could breathe again. And that’s what it felt like, existing in the perpetual bloom of deep summer, even as autumn swept in with its last few days of warmth, tucked away in the countryside with fresh air. It felt like she could breathe again, infusing herself with love with each breath as it filled her with warmth and spread throughout her entire body. 

 

            The sun shined to warm her and the flowers bloomed to delight her, and with no expectations of her, Lena transformed into the best version of herself. And she fell more in love with Kara, slowly but surely, because she made Lena love the version of herself when she was with her. She loved the easy way Kara laughed, and how she always held Lena’s hand, absentmindedly squeezing it as they walked through fields of wildflowers, which Lena picked for her in abundance, filling the cosy apartment with their sweet smell. 

 

            She had no responsibilities as the seasons changed. None but to herself, healing old wounds to new scars, finding her joy in the simple things, like the smell of freshly mowed grass as Jack pushed the lawnmower back and forth on a Friday evening, in the borrowed books from Kara’s overflowing bathtub, in the way Kara’s sundresses felt against her skin as they sat outside beneath the moon, drinking dark wine by starlight. They crowded in Imra’s backyard for barbecues after long days, before her and Kara strolled home arm in arm, listening to the dulcet tones of frogs croaking and the song of crickets blurring as they were surrounded by it. Life was made of little moments, and Lena was determined to savour them all.

 

            It wasn’t all good though. There were the moments where she lapsed into unreachable silence, sitting there so deep in thought that Kara’s words washed over her unheard, or times when she felt so much sadness well up that it left her gasping as she clutched at her chest. To feel so much was so new to Lena, and she didn’t know how to handle it at times. It was too much. But Kara was always there, always patient and soothing, quietly coaxing her out for a walk to settle her breathing, or just letting her  _ be. _ Sometimes there was nothing to do except let Lena exist in that world of pain, until she was ready to come back out and step into the daylight. 

 

            But there were so many healing moments for Lena. She got new credit cards and bought a new wardrobe that was more than cheap novelty t-shirts, smiling as Kara’s eyes widened the first time she came downstairs in a green silk shirt and a pair of slacks. She felt more like herself in that moment, the version of herself that closed business deals on expensive antiques in foreign countries, who stood tall and gambled at auctions, with a critical eye for the small details. It felt like thin armour, wrapping herself up in something so familiar, allowing pieces of her past to catch up with her. 

 

            They made plans to go to Metropolis again for Christmas, late one evening, as Lena sat at Kara’s desk, the little wristwatch dissembled on the wooden top as Kara cooked in the kitchen, having waved Lena’s help aside when she’d diced tomatoes wrong. Lena had ventured the topic, picking up a tiny screwdriver as she held the internal mechanism of the watch beneath the lamplight, working slowly as she carefully placed the gears back in order. 

 

            One of the first things she’d done had been to buy more tools, the familiar feeling of files and tweezers in her hands giving her a sense of normalcy, and Lena had gotten started on the only clock she had to fix, ordering tiny original parts to finish the work. She thought she was nearly there, nearly at the point where she had all of the pieces to put it back together. When Kara was working downstairs, Lena would sit in the sunlight and work on it, hammering out bent parts, enveloping herself in the familiar smell of oil as she scrubbed the metal pieces to a shine. It was comforting work in the way that her hands worked of their own accord, slowly but deftly putting the pieces of the puzzle back together.

 

            She had a thought to bring some antiques with her when she came back from Metropolis. For now, she helped out around the teahouse, washing dishes in the kitchen or collecting stacks of dirty plates in the breakfast rush, helping Jack unload crates of fresh produce as they chatted and made plans for her to accompany him to the farmers market so she could flog Kara’s wares for her. She went alone to gather the dandelions that grew back quickly, harvested apples from the trees and collected eggs from the chicken coop every morning, yet her heart lay in fixing broken things. In the future, Lena wanted to find more clocks to fix, and she envisioned renting a dusty shop in the small hamlet and filling it with antiques she scoured the surrounding countryside for. She thought it would be perfect for her.

 

            For now, she just dwelled in herself, getting to know the new parts of herself like getting to know a stranger. It surprised her at how light she felt inside now, as if sharing her grief with someone else, sharing the burden of her heavy thoughts and finally getting to say goodbye, had lifted so much darkness off her soul. There was still guilt, of course, and she didn’t think it would ever go away, but she was able to move past it, acknowledging it for what it was but not lingering too long on it. 

 

            Instead, she marvelled at how much she laughed now, where a few months ago it had felt like a betrayal to even do it once. She was rosy-cheeked with soft smiles for Kara all the time now, finding herself attentive to the blonde’s needs in a way that surprised her with how attuned she was to her. Imra taught her how to make coffee on the machine in the teahouse so that Lena could make Kara a cup in the morning,  _ just _ how she liked it. How she fixed broken doorknobs and squeaky hinges and uneven table legs before Kara even asked, the old cottage being shored up almost as if by magic unseen hands. It felt good to be useful, to do something for someone purely because it made them happy when they realised, and Lena loved nothing more than seeing the glow of delight of Kara’s face when she noticed.

 

            But for all of her reasons to love Kara, she couldn’t say why the blonde loved her back. It was startling at times, when Lena would turn and catch the look of adoration swimming in a pair of blue eyes watching her do the dishes or fold laundry, when Kara would kiss her softly, her lips lingering as Lena’s breath caught in her throat, in the way that Kara held her tenderly close as they slow danced to jazz music in the kitchen, both of them laughing. She knew she was healing, but Kara had known the broken parts of her, and Lena would stare at her with bewildered wonder, trying to figure out  _ why. _ Kara was easy to love, but Lena had been surrounded by thistles and thorns, prickly to the touch and closed off from anything but self-destruction. So  _ why? _

 

            They were tucked away in the hidden dream world of swans and ducks and shaded beauty, the air heady with flowers and the cloying smell of rotting foliage and moss, lounging in a rowing boat as they feasted on ham sandwiches, jam tarts and cloudy lemonade before Lena got the chance to ask. The weeks had slipped by slowly, giving her time to reflect, to fix, to come to terms with her grief and mourn in her own quiet way, but as autumn swept in with the first burst crimson leaves on the cottage and surrounding woods, she felt herself infused with the slow-changing of healing, becoming a new person with the changing of the seasons as the world stood on the threshold of autumn.

 

            Leaning back on her bench, swirling lemonade around in her glass as she stared at Kara, taking in the bare shoulders tanned from a long summer spent outdoors, the floppy sun hat on her head and the floral sundress fanning out around her knees. She was eating a strawberry jam tart, crumbling a pit of the pastry into the water as ducks clamoured over one another to fight for the spoils. Quiet laughter spilt from her lips, and Lena’s heart soared.

 

            “Kara?”

 

            “Mm?”

 

            “Why me?”

 

            There was an unabashed surprise on Kara’s face as she turned, the boat rocking slightly beneath her shifting movements, and raised her eyebrows as she gave Lena a perplexed look. “What?”

 

            “Why did you pick me?” Lena quietly asked, “I mean, I know I’m not easy to love, and I wasn’t exactly …  _ appealing _ when I first got here.”

 

            Kara let out a snort of laughter, setting down her jam tart and dusting her hands of the crumbs as a thoughtful look crossed her face. “I think it was  _ very _ easy to love you; you just didn’t  _ want _ to be loved. And yes, you were in a bad place, and it was  _ so, so _ obvious that you were struggling, that something had hurt you badly, and you just- you wouldn’t let me help. You were so  _ stubborn,  _ but I couldn’t stay away. I looked at you and I felt like I understood you, completely. It was like I was looking at a part of myself, all the parts of me that hurt, and I just- I wanted to help you.”

 

            “So I was a challenge?”

 

            Rolling her eyes, Kara let out a withering sigh, shifting forward as she leaned her elbows on her knees. She was imperfectly beautiful in that moment, messy blonde hair spilling around her face, her uneven tan and lopsided smile, and Lena’s expression softened as she sat upright, nearly mirroring Kara’s movements.

 

            “You were _challenging_ , but not a challenge. I didn’t- you weren’t a problem to be fixed by me, I just … felt drawn to you. At first, you were so cold that it stung a little bit, but I tried to be kind, because I didn’t know what kind of bad day you were having. I mean, the boat, obviously, but there was clearly something else going on. But I watched you, and you changed, over time, and it was like watching flowers bloom after winter. You came  _ alive. _ ”

 

            She shifted, a contemplative look on her face as she mused over her feelings for Lena, and Lena took a sip of fresh lemonade as she watched her, taking in the way the green filtered sunlight fell across her lap, how Kara tilted her head to the side, eyes darkened by the shaded brim of her hat.

 

            “You were suffering but … you were thoughtful. You still  _ cared. _ I think I noticed that first, that you were observant and you listened and you  _ had _ to fix things. That morning when you fixed my chicken coop, I could see the stubborn determination inside you; you just weren’t going to take no for an answer. It was like you  _ needed _ to fix it. I wondered what you couldn’t fix that made you so intent on fixing every broken thing around you.”

 

            Lena let out a scoffing laugh, raising her eyebrows briefly in an amused fashion, before setting her glass down on the bench that separated them, strewn with their picnic.

 

            “But how observant you were … I liked it, a lot. You paid attention to the little details, remembered things I’d mentioned once in passing and listened so intently that I felt like you appreciated me, even when I rambled. It felt like you understood the pieces of me that I didn’t get to share with anyone else. They all passed through, but you stayed, and you listened and you fixed. And I didn’t know what you were looking for, but you were so eager to drink in everything, and I’d watch you walk through the woods as if you had all the time in the world, and I liked how unhurried you were, taking the time to figure out what type of flower was growing near the river. I liked that you read bird watching books and flower guides and fixed clocks and knew the makers marks of people that lived two hundred years ago. I’ve been fascinated with you since the moment you yelled at me from your boat. You’ve just always seemed very … introspective, in a way that made me feel like you understood and accepted that. And every time I learn something new about you, it feels like a forgotten memory, like I’ve always known it, like I’ve always known  _ you. _ And I fall in love with a new part of you every day.”

 

            Cocking her head to the side, her heart in her throat and her stomach tying itself into knots as unadulterated exhilaration swept through her at the admission, Lena gave Kara a slow smile, her eyes shining with love. “What have you learnt today?”

 

            “That you have to know why. That you aren’t content with just  _ knowing _ something existed as it is; you have to know  _ why. _ It’s not enough to know I love you; you want to know the intricate parts that make up my love, like it’s the pieces of a watch, and you’ll only be able to understand it once you know how they work together. And I love it.”

 

            “You do?”

 

            “Of course I do!” Kara quietly crowed, a look of wonder on her face as she smiled brightly, freckles speckling the bridge of her nose as her eyes crinkled. “It’s a part of you. How could I ever hate your curiosity? It would be like hating your mind or the way you think!”

 

            A slow smile spread across Lena’s face as she arched an eyebrow, “surely there’s something you don’t like about me.”

 

            “There are things I find infuriating, sure,” Kara shrugged.

 

            “Which are?”

 

            Giving her a pointed look, Kara raised her brows and reached for her drink, “well I’m not going to  _ tell _ you. I find them endearing all the same. As I said, it’s a part of you, and I  _ chose _ you, and I chose those qualities too. I’m sure you could say the same for me.”

 

            “I suppose,” Lena said, pursing her lips as she trailed her fingers through the still water, swirling a lilypad around with the gentle current she stirred up. “I don’t think I could love you if there was something about you that I didn’t like.”

 

            “Exactly. Now, shall we go home? I’ve got something new for dinner tonight.”

 

            “Do tell.”

 

            Kara gave her a coy smile, a playful look in her eyes, and she raised her chin as she shook her head defiantly. Her hands quickly started packing away their picnic. “Nope. You’ll have to wait and find out.”

 

            “Well there’s one of  _ your _ infuriating qualities,” Lena pouted as Kara laughed, refusing to budge an inch.

 

            Huffing, Lena rolled her eyes and withdrew her wet fingers from the murky water, flicking droplets of water into Kara’s face, laughing at the look of surprise that bloomed there. With a look of mock outrage, Kara reached up to wipe a few drops off her cheek and slowly met Lena’s gaze. Biting her lip gently, Lena raised her eyebrows expectantly, and Kara abruptly leant forward.

 

            “What was that?”

 

            “You’re going to tip the boat!”

 

            Rocking it as Lena dissolved into uncontrollable laughter, Kara awkwardly leaning across the middle bench to hover above her, Kara laughed as well, and Lena felt heat pool in her stomach as she lay back on her bench, staring up into blue eyes sparkling with mirth.

 

            Reaching up, she wiped away a few stray drops of water and then pushed herself upwards, propelling Kara back as well as she clung to her biceps, feeling the wiry muscles beneath her tanned skin. Pausing for a moment, Lena gave her a scrutinising look, before kissing her fiercely. She pushed back against Kara, who flopped down on her bench as Lena chased after her lips, swallowing Kara’s laugher as she collapsed down clumsily on the seat, clamping down her sunhat on her head and cupped Lena’s cheek as she prolonged the kiss.

 

            “Your laugh,” Kara breathlessly murmured against her lips, “there was that too. I remember the first time I made you laugh; it took my breath away. I knew I wanted to make you do it again.” She punctuated her words with a kiss. “And again, and again. It felt like there was so much of it pent up inside, and I wanted to be the one to bring it out.”

 

            “I remember that day,” Lena softly said, her expression softening with a tender, sorrowful look, “I didn’t even mean to laugh, you just- you took me by surprise. I hadn’t laughed in  _ months _ and it felt so good, and afterwards, I felt so  _ guilty. _ It felt like a betrayal because the last time I’d laughed had been when Sam had made me laugh.” 

 

            A wry smile curled Lena’s lips as she reached down to brush Kara’s hair out of her face, “and I remember thinking that this  _ stranger.”  _ She leant down and kissed her chastely. “This person I barely even knew had replaced her in some small way. It was the first of many replacements you made. Honestly, you’re like a weed; I feel like you overtook all the places in my heart that were filled with dead flowers that had grown for her.”

 

            “A  _ weed?” _ Kara snorted with laughter, “well that’s … romantic.”

 

            Eyes creasing faintly at the corners, Lena traced Kara’s lower lip with her thumb, giving her a heartachingly tender look. “Dandelions are weeds, and people make wishes on them all the time. I feel like that laughter was the first dandelion and it blew all the seeds off it. They started sprouting everywhere inside me after that, no matter how hard I tried to weed them out. It’s not a bad thing to be a weed.”

 

            “Perhaps not,” Kara murmured as she smiled faintly, tracing her fingers over Lena’s cheek, “I guess it means that you can’t get rid of me.”

 

            “Not yet.”

            

            They both chuckled quietly, before disentangling themselves. Packing up the rest of their picnic, they settled the basket on the floor between them and folded the blanket, and then Kara rowed them down the narrow channel and back out onto the river.

 

            It was mid-afternoon, the day getting ready to draw to a close, and they stretch of hills and valleys and fields were calm as the breeze ruffled long grass and trees creaked and rustled. Fish splashed beneath the surface of the water every so often, silver glimpses of trout visible as they flashed under the boat, darting over a rainbow of pebble-strewn amongst the silty riverbed. They took it in turns rowing, the repetitive motion soothing as the oars swept back and forth, rippling the glassy surface of the deep blue water.

 

            As the cottage came into sight, Lena relaxed with the familiar feeling of being home, a content tiredness filling her as her shoulders drooped and the ghost of a smile playing on her lips. She could never have known how good it would feel to find a home in a place that made her feel so at peace with herself, and it never ceased to brush over her when the ivy-covered teahouse came into sight, the first hints of red and orange amongst the green as autumn ushered itself in without preamble.

 

            Kara took the picnic basket and blanket out of the bottom of the faded boat, and Lena dragged it up the muddy riverbank, all the way back up to the boathouse with its peeling green paint. She tipped it upwards and let it rest against the shelves of similar boats, before patting the wet hull of it, a small smile tugging up one side of her mouth half-heartedly. This one was special to her though, and she glanced at the name Kara had painted on the hull one day, a look of acceptance in her eyes as she’d nodded to Lena, her fingertips covered in white paint.  _ Sam. _

 

            Shutting the door behind her, Lena trudged back to the cottage and slipped inside, running a hand through her hair as she made her way upstairs, footsteps slow on the staircase as she ascended with the comforting notion of coming home to Kara.

 

            The door was left open for her and she hovered in the doorway, leaning against the wooden frame, watching as Kara moved around the room with the bumbling forgetfulness and disorderly characteristic that Lena had come to love about her. The radio was already turned on, smooth jazz blaring through as it fuzzed slightly with the bad signal, and Lena stood and watched for a moment as Kara sang beneath her breath, pots and pans clattering in the kitchen, before she abruptly made for the windows and threw them open, and then dove into a draw for a wooden spoon, before whirling around, mid-step towards the door when she noticed Lena lurking there.

 

            “What’re you doing?” Kara asked, her voice coloured with bemusement.

 

            “I’m just looking,” Lena softly said, pushing off the door frame and finally stepping into the apartment. 

 

            She snagged an apron off the coat stand and gave Kara a knowing look as she held it out, smiling at the delight and gratitude in her blue eyes at Lena’s intuition. It always made her feel warm to be able to read Kara, to know what she wanted before she was even aware of it herself. Lena could read it in her movements, in her expressions. She knew the nights when Kara’s shoulders were slumped with exhaustion that she wouldn’t fight Lena on cooking for her, even though Lena was a mediocre cook at best, trying her best as she pored over cookbooks. She knew that Kara had something to say when she twisted a dish towel between her hands, brimming with tension, and Lena would patiently linger around until she’d managed to ask. 

 

            Little moments of just  _ knowing _ Kara was more than enough proof for Lena to know she’d made the right decision in staying, in baring her soul to someone who knew her just as intimately, in a way that she doubted Sam ever truly would’ve been able to. It eased the parts of her that still struggled with her guilt. It just felt so  _ normal. _ This life that she’d stumbled into, living it without even realising she’d chosen to, came so naturally, so effortlessly, that Lena couldn’t even fathom for a second that it was a mistake.

 

            As Kara diced onion on a wooden chopping board, Lena walked up behind her, encircling her waist with her arms and lightly kissing the side of her neck, smiling against Kara’s warm skin as she felt her squirm at the ticklish feeling, goosebumps rippling against her skin. It never failed to make her smile. As Kara turned to face her, their lips met in a gentle kiss, both of them prolonging it as they cherished the sweetness of it, before Lena asked Kara if she wanted some help and was shooed away.

 

            Gathering her leather roll of tools, Lena pulled the old Cartier watch out of Kara’s desk drawer and gathered up the pieces of the watch, before she made her way downstairs, stepping outside to work at the old picnic table. It was a mild day, probably one of the last they’d have, even as far south as they were, and she made the most of it as the day grew shorter and dusk settled in earlier.

 

            Unfurling the neat row of screwdrivers and tiny hammers, different shaped files and tweezers and the tips used for boring holes in thin metal, she took a seat on the warped bench and delicately laid down the cloth wrapped watch, unwrapping the four corners to reveal the gleaming mass of metal pieces. 

 

            With steadfast resolution, Lena picked up the watch and pried off the back of it, before eyeing what she’d assembled of the internal mechanism so far and taking it back out. The train wheels and bridge were already constructed, the mainspring barrel was already in place, and the barrel arbour and train pivots had been oiled and lubricated. The crown and ratchet wheels of the barrel bridge had already been replaced, along with the click works, which left the barrel safely tucked into space.

 

            Whenever she’d had a spare moment, she’d been slowly working on it, and she was nearly done with it now. It had been hard to find pieces, but the last had come a few days before, and the anticipation of finishing it had consumed her for days, while Lena had found herself somewhat hesitant to do so. But she was ready now, and she sat there as the day wound down, securing the cannon pinion and keyless works with a look of absolute concentration on her face.

 

            After she’d assembled the escapement and balance, she carefully tested the movement, feeling satisfied as she watched the lubricated pieces work in tandem. Carefully making sure all the screws were properly tightened, she shifted the tiny movement back into the watch, where the dial and hands were, and tested it again, watching the hands tick and feeling a jolt of shock and exhilaration wash over her.

 

            With a final click, Lena pressed the back of the watch into place and slowly turned it over in her hands, thumbing the glass face as she watched the hands tick for the first time in years. And in that moment, it was like everything had fallen into place.

 

            For too long now, she’d been unable to fix the watch, lacking the right pieces for it, walking around with its internal mechanism half-empty, but she’d finally gathered all the pieces together, slowly but surely. In a way, she’d felt like that herself. She’d been an empty shell of the person she’d been, missing her old parts as if they’d been torn out of her the day Sam had broken her heart. When she’d died, she’d taken them with her, leaving Lena in shambles. She’d been barely a shadow of her old self, unable to put the pieces back together when they’d been taken from her.

 

            But she’d found pieces that fit in her time at the cottage. Over the past few months, she’d found them, one by one, filling herself back up with new pieces. She’d found them in Karaa, in her patience and kindness and determined love. They weren’t the same as her old parts, but they fit right, and eventually, she started to work again. And she realised it at that moment, looking down at the watch that had dogged her every step of her trip, a reminder of the brokenness deep inside her, that she was  _ okay. _

 

            Her wounds hurt a little less, and one day they would be nothing but an occasional twinge to remind her of what she’d lost. Now, her heart ached in the most beautiful way, reminding her of what she’d found. And there was something to be said for the truth in Kara’s words, that Lena had tried to fix everything around her, because she could. But she’d fixed herself in the process, muddling through it with confusion and regressions and difficulty, but coming out the other side intact. Not unscathed, but whole and patched up, and she’d done that  _ herself. _

 

            “There you are,” Kara said from behind her, and Lena’s expression brightened as she glanced over her shoulder.

 

            She watched as Kara walked towards her, a bottle of wine tucked under her arm and two clean glasses in hand. A white sundress rippled in the mild breeze, and the whole world felt like it was standing on the precipice of metamorphosis, about to remake itself anew. Lena was changing too. 

 

            As she neared her, Kara leant down to kiss her softly, unbridled joy on her face at the simple pleasure of being able to kiss her, and Lena brushed blonde hair out of her face as she smiled into it, the watch curled in her fist.

 

            Setting the glasses down on the table, Kara unstoppered the bottle of wine, pouring a dark ribbon of it into one glass, the sun turning it crimson as it caught the edge of the deep plum stream. The air was perfumed with the sweet smell of berries the wine was made from, mingling with the heady smell of flowers and rotting foliage of the woods. Just beyond the edge of the chicken coop, the orchard of apple trees was hanging heavy with fruit, the last few waiting to be picked for fresh apple pie and sweet ciders. 

 

            Bees bumbled around them in the fading sunlight, the sky streaked fuschia and rose and Lena felt at peace as she smiled brightly, her tools strewn on the table before her. A glass was set down in front of her, and Kara took a seat opposite, swirling the wine around in her glass and breathing in the fruity bouquet of it as she eyed Lena over the top of it.

 

            “What’re you doing?”

 

            Holding the watch carefully in her hands, Lena met her gaze and slowly smiled, “I fixed it.”

 

            “The watch?” Kara asked, eyebrows rising in surprise, a look of delight dawning on her face.

 

            Inclining her head, Lena looked back down at it, pride and self-satisfaction blooming within, and a sense of peace, as if she’d overcome the last obstacle of herself. “Yeah.”

 

            “Hey, nice job!”

 

            Lena laughed and glanced up, meeting Kara’s gaze and melting at the sight of her eyes creasing at the corners in the way she adored so much, a glow of warmth within her and the look of genuine pride on Kara’s face. She watched as the blonde raised her glass and gave Lena a pointed look as she extended her. Quietly scoffing as she rolled her eyes, Lena raised her own glass too and clinked it against Kara’s, before taking a sip. It was sweet, tasting of blackberries and feeling like she was drinking summer.

 

            “To your expertise in all things fixable and your stubborn determination to fix the unfixable.”

 

            Laughing loudly, Lena shook her head as she held the watch in her hands. For a moment, she stared at Kara, propping her elbow on the table and cupping her cheek as she tilted her head to the side, and after a slight pause, she held the watch out. Kara stared at her for a moment, and Lena closed her eyes as she smiled to herself, before slowly opening them again to extend the watch further.

 

            “Go on. Take it.”

 

            Kara reached out and gently took it, looking down at the watch face in the fading sunlight. She smiled as she inspected it, taking in the gleaming silver, the rectangular face and the perfectly restored numbers and hands. It was ticking in perfect synchrony. She reached out to give it back, but Lena didn’t move to take it.

 

            “Look at the back.”

 

            Obeying, Kara flipped it over and stared down at the back, her forehead creasing into a bewildered frown as she ran her thumb over the engraving on the back. Lena watched with a tender look in her eyes.

 

            It was two swallows, both of them dipping towards each other. The symbol of love and happiness and home - a pair of them for luck. She knew Kara knew what they meant, knew  _ how _ much they meant, and she gave Lena a soft smile as she looked back up and held the watch back out.

 

            “It’s beautiful.”

 

            Reaching out, Lena pressed it into Kara’s palm and curled her fingers around it, rising from her seat to bow her head over their hands and press a delicate kiss to the back of Kara’s, before she sat back down.

 

            “Keep it.”

 

            “Wha- no, Éire, I can’t.”

 

            “I fixed it for you.”

 

            “But you were fixing it for …”

 

            With a sad smile, Lena waved her hand offhandedly, a languid shrug rolling her shoulders as she reached for her wine again. “And she would’ve loved it. But if she was here now, I’d still give it to you. Love. Happiness. Home. You’re all of those things for me, in a way she never was. It belongs to you.”

 

            “Lena-”

 

            As Kara started to object, a dark blur dipped overhead, and as they sat there at one end of the picnic table, the sky lavender and salmon pink, stars winking into existence one by one, a little bird landed on the far end, hopping slightly as it cocked its head to the side. It was royal blue with a white-crested breast, its forked tail dipping as it shifted, watching them with beady eyes. A perfect swallow. With a breathless laugh, Lena’s eyes pricked with tears and she looked back at Kara. 

 

            “You know, it used to be said that swallows were the souls of somebody who had died.”

 

            A solemn look in her kind blue eyes, Kara smiled faintly, reaching out to take Lena’s hand in her own, holding it across the warped tabletop. “It looks like someone’s still looking out for you.”

 

            Quietly laughing, Lena gave her a crooked smile, before she turned to look at the little bird, its head cocked to the side. “You don’t have to worry about me anymore; I’m okay. She’s looking after me.”

 

            She turned to give Kara a loving smile, full of so much warmth as her eyes shone with adoration, and she realised that she was more than okay. She was  _ happy.  _ Lena had found exactly what she’d needed without even meaning to, and as Kara looked at her, lips slightly parted, Lena felt her heart soar. 

 

            The little bird paused for a moment, head jerking this way and that as it watched them with its beady eyes, before it took flight again. Lena watched it go with a look of peace on her face, the sharp angles softened, and she gave Kara’s hand a squeeze as she looked back down at her when the swallow disappeared from sight. 

 

            It felt like a sign, and neither of them could deny it, and as Kara held out the watch to her, Lena smiled softly, reaching out to clasp it around her wrist. There was a sense of rightfulness that settled within her as she eyed the watch and then slowly brought Kara’s hand to her lips and gently kissed her knuckles. It felt like the thing she’d been looking for for so long. It felt like home.


End file.
